Dartmouth Halloween
by jmolly
Summary: Emmett and Rosalie Cullen exchange a leery look. Newly-weds Bella and Edward are up to something. Whether that something is fit for discussion in polite company is questionable. There are times when it's better not to know.
1. Chapter 1

**Dartmouth Hallowe'en **

**by jmolly**

**A future-take from 'I Hunger for Your Touch'. Happy Hallowe'en, one and all.**

**Canon vamp couples in an AU setting. No slash.**

**M for lemons, some bad language, innuendo, and college drinking.**

**Thanks to touttoi for pre-reading the first bit of this. I expect this fic to be about 5 chapters long. But you know how long-winded I am, don't you! You might get more, if it ends up that people like it (hint, hint).**

**'I Hunger' is nominated for 'The Story You Drop Everything to Read' in the Glosp Awards. Please vote :) But don't open their homepage in front of your kids. Lol (yeah, I did). Last day to vote is Oct 26/10. I've never had an award yet (blinks and attempts to be charming?).**

**glospawards(dot)blogspot(dot)com**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental.**

**My canon takes place a year earlier than Stephenie's. And my Bella and Edward are, shall we say, more liberated. Bella, being pregnant, has taken on many vampire traits. Oh, and Ren percolates a lot longer in my story than in the original. She was conceived July 17th, and is due to arrive on November 20th.**

**Our vampires are taking part in events that actually happened at Dartmouth in late October of 2005. Isn't that grand?**

**http:/thedartmouth(dot)com/2005/10/31/news/halloween**

**Saturday, October 29th, 2005:**

_**Hanover, New Hampshire**_

Emmett and Rosalie Cullen exchange a leery look. Bella and Edward are up to something. Whether that something is fit for discussion in polite company is questionable.

There are times when it's better not to know, even if you are a pair of hot-blooded (make that cold-venomed), all-American, ever-horny, perpetually-young people. Because you probably don't want to know that your previously uptight, ultra-Victorian brother is into weird shit. Even if you are into weirdness yourself. It does not matter. And ever since he got married, and knocked up his human mate (_Who knew?_) he has been doing his damnedest to outdo his 'elder' brother's reputation as a sex machine.

Yeah, don't even mention the day the spanking bench arrived. Emmett is not over it yet. And there's really no escaping Bedward love, since the Insufferable Little Shit and his hybrid, moody-yet-adorable wife have moved into Big Brother Emmett's house for the duration of the fall term at Dartmouth. Assuming Bella doesn't go into labour earlier than Alice has predicted. Sigh.

So, this morning, they brought in bags. Rather large, black bags. And they were snickering. Not to mention that they were wearing their customary, matching, crude pregnancy t-shirts. They have about a million pregnancy tees: rude ones, cute ones, self-deprecating ones...

Today, Edward's reads 'Future DILF', and Bella's reads 'Future MILF'. Not their best, or funniest, shirts, but they seem determined to wear everything of which they know Charlie, Esme and Carlisle would not approve, before the opportunity to be bratty, college rebels expires. In short, they are being kids while they still can. And they are completely open about the fact that they're doing it.

New Experiences 101. No, life is never dull, because the pair of them are so unpredictable that Em and Rose's heads are spinning.

Bella and Edward have careful rules concerning their playful experimentation. It's just that the stuff they're trying (although milder than Em and Rose suppose) is still such a far cry from what they normally do, that it's positively scary. The world has been turned on its ear.

How great is that!

"Hello, kiddies! How's it hangin'?" Edward grins, barely stopping to listen to an answer. He is determined to make it clear to Emmett that he is, in fact, the elder brother, and makes constant reference to the fact that Em was made some 14 years after himself.

Confidentially? Emmett is just so damn pleased to see the little shit happy, that he's considering taking the title of Little Brother. But where would the fun be in that? Nah, bantering with Edward is fun. Teasing Edward is fun, even if he refuses to react in his habitual, tight-assed, outraged manner. Well, that ass is admittedly a lot less tight than it was four months ago. And watching him loosen up with Bella is even more fun.

Thank all that's holy, that Bella came along, because life is never dull. Not anymore. No siree.

Moments after their entrance, Edward and his fecund mate shut themselves in the only bathroom (not that that really matters in a house full of vampires) and stay in there an unusually long time. And when they come out, a nasty scent of depilatory cream is left behind, which is not entirely eradicated by the steam from the shower.

Ew.

And now, they've been in their bedroom for over three hours. And it is unusually quiet. Deathly quiet.

Never a good sign.

Being Saturday, the house is abnormally peaceful. Sort of. Em and Rose had enjoyed their morning (_ahem_) nap. Em's Sociology homework done? Check. Rose's Mechanical Studies project done? Check.

During the week, Em and Rose busied themselves making candy kebabs with the frat brats, to sell at school, to benefit the Dartmouth India Project. The extra-curricular activities, combined with the schoolwork, prevented idle hands. Bella and Edward even helped out by selling the candy to students during a couple of their lunch periods. But Em and Rose's hands feel decidedly empty at the moment.

Were they human, they'd be kicking back, reading the paper and talking about the increasing nip in the crisp autumn air. But they _aren't_. And they have nothing much to distract them from Little Brother and Baby Sister's... activities, assuming they don't want to get busy themselves. And truth be told, they are nosy buggers.

Which is very gratifying to the Insufferable Little Shit, who regularly -and gladly- laps their reactions up. Yeah, it's all about shock and awe these days.

What? Em and Jazz are kicking themselves now for calling Edward a prude.

Not to mention the regular ass-kicking Em gets from Rosalie for having teased Baby Brother so badly that he is never, _ever _going to pretend to forget it.

Jazz is lucky. Alice just laughs. Besides which, they don't have to live with Bedward on a regular basis. Only on occasional week-ends.

Edward shrieks, and Em and Rosalie jump. Em starts toward the bedroom, but Rose calls him back.

"She's hurting him," Em protests, eyes replete with worry.

Rose shakes her head. "Bee would never hurt him. They're just playing," she murmurs.

A masculine, giggly whisper floats through the transom above the solid oak door. "That tickles."

"Shut up and hold still, Mocha-chino, unless you want to spoil it," Bella intones.

"Stop, Minx! Please, if you love me! Red red _red_!"

"Shhht! You can't leave it like this. You're only half-way there."

"Get it over with fast, then, Dona Isabella."

Another squeal, followed by masculine and feminine giggles.

Another wary look passes between Em and his wife. Rosalie looks back down at her motorcycle magazine, pretending it is more than an adequate distraction.

"Fuck, Bella, that's _cold_," he squeaks.

"Hah. All be worth it in the end, Love. There. It's done, see? Feel better now?"

"Mmm. I _still _can't believe you agreed to do this," he says happily.

"Yeah, well, you've _thoroughly_ corrupted me. If Charlie knew, he'd hand you your balls on a plate."

"Is that a hint? Gonna blackmail me, Minx? Because I could tell Charlie a thing or two, you know."

"I told you to shut up. Unless you'd _like_ to look like you have a vagina."

"Could be interesting. Maybe we should try that next time."

Em and Rose exchange a horrified look. Their brother and sister-in-law have finally gone bonkers.

"Wouldn't do you any good. If you can't reach your own dick, there's no way you'd reach your own twat," Bella scoffs.

"No fun for a vag-etarian," Edward sighs mournfully. What a brat.

"I thought I told you to shut up."

"Yes, Mistress."

Some quiet cackling ensues. Whatever are they doing?

It goes back to being quiet in the house. Very, very quiet, Mr Fudd.

"Bella, do you _really_ have to give me blue balls?" Edward groans.

"Hell, yeah," Bella answers. She pauses. "How does it feel?"

"Um, really, really odd... but I kinda ... like it."

"Perv."

The phone on the kitchen island rings loudly, making Em and Rose jump. Em hurries to answer.

"Hello? Cullen House of Ill Repute," he announces, brow raised. He listens for a few minutes. "Sure. Hey, Edward?" he calls loudly. "It's Alessandro with his weekly report."

Edward's head pokes out of his bedroom doorway, along with one, bare shoulder. There's something green smudged on his cheek. "Em, can you ask him if there's anything essential? I'm a little ... tied up right now."

"Uh, sure," Em murmurs. "Alessandro? Anything he _really_ needs to know? He's... kinda busy." Em's eyes drift to Edward's door, where more giggling can be heard, along with some shushing, and snorting. "It's all good? No word of Caius? That's great, man. University going well? Wonderful. He'll be glad to hear. And Nahuel's doing okay? Chirica what? Yeah, she can write to her Dad, or send him a gift, but she can't see him. Not until at least a year has passed. Yeah. Anything else new? No? Okay. I'll pass that along. Love to everybody, alright? Yeah. Bye."

Another hour and a half passes. The phone rings again, and in the bedroom, Bella exclaims, startled.

"Minx!" Edward laughs. "You talk about _me_ not holding still?"

"Well, your equipment's under wraps," she declares.

"I could take it out," he flirts.

"Ew," Rose says under her breath, now knee-deep in mechanical drawings as she sits on the living room floor.

"There's no way of disguising that monster," Bella growls playfully.

"Emmett? Why the fuck did you let them move in with us? If I could murder you, I would. Damn Alice for giving Bee kinky suggestions," Rose mutters, which does nothing but provoke more Bedward cackling.

Meanwhile, Emmett has got the phone. "City Morgue." He looks at Rose like a deer in vampire headlights. "Oh, hi Alice."

Speak of the Devil and he (or she) shall appear.

"Alice? When I see you, I'm gonna clean your clock for teaching Bella kinky shit," Rose snarls.

Emmett blinks. Like he hasn't been feeding Edward TMI for years? Best not point that out to Rosie. Alice is talking in his ear. "Oh. Rose? Alice says it's Esme's fault." Rose huffs indignantly, and Emmett turns his attention back to his sister. "What's up? Cynthia good? Mary Alice? ... Swell. Oh. Well, I'll ask, okay? They're kinda... busy."

Devilish laughter issues from the phone.

"Yeah, yeah. Hang on," Em says, eyes rolling. "Edward? Alice wants to speak with you."

"Okay, Em. Can you bring me the cordless, please?"

Em and Rose exchange a calculating look, and Emmett hurries eagerly down the short hallway, passing the still-unpleasantly scented bathroom. On his left, his own bedroom door stands open. On his right? Bedward's vault.

Yeah, their door is _never_ open. Not since they moved in. God only knows what they're keeping in there.

A pale hand darts out of the door, and snatches the phone. "Thanks, Bro," Edward sings. A sweet smell wafts out of the room, and then the door is, _again_, shut tighter than a Victorian virgin's legs. What is that smell? Em hovers near the door, sniffing. He turns to look at his mate, who is, naturally, staring back at him.

"Icing?" he mouths, his face a mask of confusion.

"Go away, Emmett," Bella growls through the door.

"Yes, Ma'am," Emmett says, obeying with alacrity. He has felt the sharp sting of her temper before, and does not wish to do so again.

"Thank you, Em," Edward sing-songs a second time. "Hi Titch. How's tricks and treats? ... Almost. Yeah, it's still on... No, I think ..."

The conversation becomes too muffled for Em and Rose to follow.

"Maybe they like splodging," Rose shrugs, whispering. "We had fun with their leftover wedding cake, after all."

"I don't smell cake," Emmett whispers, his brow wrinkled. "Just sugar. Like icing. I dunno. Maybe you're right, Rose. Maybe they're splodging in there. I hope they don't spoil the carpet."

"We can pick up a new one next time we're in Africa if they do," Rose shrugs. "I mean, they haven't wrecked any furniture, or damaged the house, except for that time you scared Bella and made her crack the ceiling."

Emmett guffaws. "Yeah, that was freakin' awesome. I really scared the poor little tomato, didn't I?"

"Better not let her find out you're laughing at her, Big Bear, or I might let her liberate a few more of your chest hairs," Rosalie smirks.

"Thanks, Rose," Bella sing-songs from the other room. Oh, mother! She heard him.

Emmett gawps at his wife. "Women are evil," he moans. "Weren't you just telling me off for inviting them to live with us?"

"I guess they're not so bad. After all, Edward put up with us, when we were newly-weds. We girls have to stick together when you don't appreciate us," she sniffs, fluttering her gorgeous, dark brown lashes to show him she's only kidding.

"Mmm. I'll show you some appreciation soon, Baby," he flirts, grabbing his crotch and jiggling it in her face while waggling his brows.

"Sexy beast," she scoffs, pretending offense, then leans forward to place a kiss on the front of his jeans.

"You know it, Lover," he says, eyeing her hungrily, and strikes a certain muscle-bulging pose that he knows makes her drool every time.

Just as things are heating up, Bedward's door flings open, wide, causing Em and Rose to spring apart.

Edward saunters slowly down the hall, looking like a misplaced runway model as usual. He is wearing a ridiculous straw hat with a frilled brim, and blue, denim overalls, with a red-and-white checked hanky hanging out of the chest pocket. Bits of yellow straw peek out of various parts of the overalls. He is barefoot, and his arms, shoulders, and back are also bare.

"So. What do you think of my Hallowe'en costume?" he asks, smirking cheekily.

Em and Rose look at him, bemused. It's not that great a costume. Hardly worth a second look. It's not nearly up to their usual standards. And Edward smells funny. Like... candy.

"What are you?" Emmett asks blankly. "A farmer? A scarecrow?"

Edward's eyes are dark, his lips full and laced with humour. He smiles like the cat that has eaten the canary. Several times. "I'm Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater," he informs his brother with a swagger.

"Oh. My. Fucking. Glory," Rose says, open-mouthed.

Edward laughs and claps his hands together, delighted.

"Is that paint?" Rose yelps, gawping, and jumps up, sticking her finger out with intentions of touching him.

"No, no, don't touch!" Edward orders. "You might smear me." He turns to his brother. "Your wife is smart, Emmett. Yep. Got it in one, Rose."

"Holy crap dude," Emmett gawps. His face lights with amusement. "That is so ginchy. So this is what you and Bella have been doing all morning?"

"Yep," Edward declares, pleased as punch.

"Where's the paint end?" Rose demands, again reaching out in an attempt to poke her brother-in-law.

"Hands off," Edward growls. "I've got a sling, see? Everywhere else is just paint," he says, lifting the string of his thong a little so they can see where it ends.

"It's denim?" Rosalie asks, her eyes shining.

"Yep," he grins.

Emmett frowns down at his brother's package, totally forgetting that he's looking at another guy's crotch. "Are your balls _really_ blue, Edward?"

"You think I want skin to show if the thong shifts, Emmett? I mean, I glued it down, but just in case..."

"Holy shit," Emmett gawps. "You're _seriously_ going out for Hallowe'en with a bare ass?"

"It's not bare. It's covered in body paint. As long as it doesn't rain, nobody's going to know," Edward shrugs.

"Fuck. The Victorian is dead," Emmett declares.

"Old news, Em," Edward says, shrugging a little. "My Ticuna wear less than this every day. No big."

"It's great, Edward. Absolutely wonderful," Rose gushes.

"Thanks," Edward says, looking down at himself. "Bella's an artist, huh?"

"Yeah, it's awesome," Rose chuckles, eyes shining. "Is the straw painted on, too?"

"Everything but the sling and the hat is paint."

"Shit, dude! Did you remove all your body hair?" Emmett asks, reeling.

Edward shrugs. "Well, we had to. Most of it, anyway." He fingers the fine hair on his arms a little self-consciously. "No worries. It'll grow back."

"Yeah, but still," Emmett protests.

"We, as in 'we'?" Rosalie asks eagerly. She turns in her chair and bellows for her sister-in-law. "Bella, get your ass out here!"

Bella Cullen steps slowly out of her bedroom, and her brother and sister-in-law gasp. Edward's eyes turn soft and dopey. Sappy date.

"Apparently, Bella is not the only artist in the house. Sweetie, you are absolutely stunning," Rose declares, looking at her a touch wistfully.

"Really?" Bella asks softly, peeking at everyone from under her lashes. Her clear, red eyes glow softly. They look awesome with her 'costume'.

Bella's top half is painted to look like a dark, velvet, rather Medieval dress the colour of garnet. It has a Juliet neckline, and an inset of fake lace down the front of the white 'bodice' that is sparkling gold. A large black tarantula with pink toes covers one nipple. Everything from Bella's ribcage down to her backside is decorated to look like a scary jack-o-lantern, and tendrils of pumpkin vine that twine about her body sensually. Her belly button ring, with Edward's heart-shaped diamond dangling, hangs out of the jack-o-lantern's mouth like a shiny tooth.

Bella's legs are painted midnight blue. The vines are the only things that will show if she goes walking in the dark. One eye is covered by a large, lacy green leaf. Her heavy mahogany hair is pulled back into a thick, loose plait.

In the dark, she is going to look like a princess shut up in a pumpkin shell that floats in the air, dangling tendrils of vine and leaves.

Edward is a magician.

Of course, he can do everything. Insufferable Little Shit.

Rosalie, not being shy, gets right up to her sister's chest and inspects it. "How did you do that?" she asks Edward.

"You know those little paper doilies they use in bakeries? We just held one up and sprinkled glitter-candy everywhere," he grins.

"That's like, brilliant, Edward. How long did it take you to plan this?" Rose enthuses.

"I sorta started thinking about it when we were still on the honeymoon. Only chance for Bella to wear _this _costume. I was counting on it that Bella and Ren would both be big enough by now to pull it off."

"Yeah, well I feel big as a house," Bella says, eyes rolling. "And my husband really made me feel better, painting my belly up like a big fat jack-o-lantern."

"Yeah, look how beautiful she is," he croons, making goo-goo eyes at her.

"Yes, you are beautiful, Bella. And this will be great for Ren's scrapbook. You only have one more month to carry her, after all," Rosalie reminds her.

"Twenty-two days," Bella growls. "I can't _imagine_ how big I'm going to be by the time she's born. I can't see my feet _now_."

"Well, your costume looks outstanding, with the glittery gold pumpkin eyes, and leaves and stalks and 3D shadows, and all," Em says, crossing his arms and staring unabashedly at his brother's wife's tits. Not that he can really see anything interesting. The glitter is on there pretty... thickly.

Rosalie gasps again. "Bella Cullen! Are you naked as a jaybird?" she squeaks.

Bella squirms a little, and nods.

Emmett's eyes fly to his brother's face. Edward watches proudly, not even blinking while his wife stands there in her skin in front of his brother. Probably the only time that will ever happen, mind.

"Oh. My. Freakin'..." Rosalie moans, and then jumps up with an earsplitting grin. "I'm getting the camera!"

Bella blushes. "Only if you promise to take Edward's picture too," she calls after Rose lamely.

Edward chuckles fondly. Yeah, his wife is going out in public covered only in paint, but God forbid she should let anybody memorialize it on film.

"Sure, sure," Rosalie says, her voice sounding muffled, from somewhere in her bedroom. "Esme and Alice will kill me if I don't take piles of pictures, so you had better submit nicely, Missy."

"Hey, I think I'm being a pretty good sport," Bella protests.

"Of course you are, Dearest," Edward croons, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes.

Emmett tries to surreptitiously sneak a look at his Baby Sister's kitty. To check that the paint covers everything, don't you know.

"Em-mett," Edward drawls. "Don't push it."

"Sorry," Em says sheepishly, scratching his chin.

"So what are you going as?" Edward asks him.

"Huh?" Em says, distracted.

"Tonight. The outings we agreed on. What are you wearing?" Edward presses.

"Oh," Em says slowly, scratching his head. "Rosie and I, um, thought, oh, maybe we should just stay home, and answer the door," he shrugs regretfully.

"I don't think so. Come on. Bella and I have plans. Evil plans," Edward grins, grabbing his brother's arm.

Emmett stops dead. "No, I ... don't think so, Stud. I like my body ... hairy. Rosie won't be happy if I-"

"Em? I figured that. Now come on. Let's have some fun, okay?" Edward pleads.

Edward is asking Emmett to stop being a tight-ass and have fun. What is wrong with this picture?

Rosalie is back, Bella in tow. She pushes her next to Edward, and takes about a hundred million photos of them. By the time she's half-way through, Bella has actually stopped blushing, and is striking silly poses with her husband. Which gives Emmett a good chance to give her a sneaky once-over. Too bad Edward reads minds.

"Em-mett!" Edward growls, half-amused and half-exasperated. "If you keep that up, I am going to force you to go out nude, too."

"That would be interesting," Bella mutters, rolling her eyes.

Edward does not get the reaction from his sister-in-law for which he was hoping.

"Really?" Rose beams, totally embarrassing both men.

"Sure," Edward drawls, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Not. Now, we could get started, and out of here on time, if only you two would say what you want to be," he coaxes.

"I dunno," Rose murmurs. "What's going to be easiest? You haven't had time to plan," she frets. If she's going out in public naked, and it's not on a beach, she's going out looking her best.

"Well, we sorta have a couple of ideas," Bella says, biting her lip. Edward reaches out automatically to free it. She smiles at him tolerantly.

"Like?" Rose says, her excitement palpable.

"Robin and Marian," Edward suggests.

"Angel and devil," Bella throws out.

"Pirates," Edward says.

"Pirates!" Rose pounces, jiggling up and down. She grabs Em by the hand and drags him toward the bathroom.

"Wait! Hold up there, Rosie. I'm not so sure-" the big horn-dog begins. His formerly blue-nosed brother is apparently braver than he.

"E-emmmm?" Edward sings.

"What?" Emmett asks curtly. He is flustered. Rare for Emmett.

Edward leans in like a conspirator. He murmurs in his brother's ear, while Bella explains to Rosalie about the depilatory cream. "Emmett? The body paint and the glitter? They're _edible_."

"So what?" Emmett scoffs. "Not like we can digest it," he pouts.

"Emmett, _artificial flavouring_," Edward smirks, eyes dancing.

Oh.

Emmett's eyes zone black. "Oh. _Artificial_ flavouring," he says, nodding. His tongue rolls out onto the floor. Total goner.

You see, _some_ bright vampire figured something out, sometime, or another. He discovered that artificial flavours are somewhat preserved. They don't rot, therefore they don't _taste_ spoiled, or burned, or thoroughly tasteless. Just about every flavour extract known to man lives in little glass bottles in that fellow's kitchen. And the ability to taste artificial flavours explains said vampire's attraction to his former-girlfriend-now-wife's chocolate lip balm, and peppermint toothpaste.

Yeah. Insufferable Little Shit. Him again.

"Yeah," Edward drawls, one side of his mouth curling up. He claps Em on the shoulder, and starts walking toward the back of the little house.

"Mercy," Emmett declares, mimicking Elvis. "Bring it on, Great Leader." He follows his brother. The spring is back in his step. In fact, he's practically flying. Emmett loves Hallowe'en.

Well, Edward _is_ a great leader now. Aro made him Dom of two big territories in South America.

Outside the bathroom, Edward stops and calls to Rose, who is chattering away in her room to Bella. "Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"You have one hour to make Emmett's dick lie down. If you take any longer than that, Alice says we'll miss taking the little kids trick-or-treating."

"Okay," she says, running down the hall and snagging her mate's hand. The bathroom door bangs shut, leaving Bella and Edward alone in the hall. A fresh surge of depilatory scent creeps out from under the bathroom door. Their sensitive noses crinkle automatically.

"What are we going to do?" Bella blinks. "We've got an hour to kill. We can't sit down, and we can't make love. The paint's still damp. And I _really_ don't want to listen to those two do it."

"Hah. Why don't we have a nice, old-fashioned chat?" Edward suggests. So they lean on the kitchen island, and talk about what Hallowe'en was like back in the day. And they talk about Carlisle's experiences in New England two centuries ago, when he was on his way to Philadelphia to work at the new College of Surgeons. They even talk about previous Hallowe'en parties that the Cullens have attended. And, of course, they talk about Bella's childhood. Her favourite Hallowe'en traditions.

"Hey," he says at last. "Rose says it's hard to understand what I'm supposed to be, and she thinks you ought to write the rhyme out on my skin."

"Yeah, I can do that," Bella twinkles. She takes his hand, and pulls him back to the bedroom. Then, she uses the airbrush to laboriously write the nursery rhyme all over his bare skin in green paint.

_Peter, Peter pumpkin eater _on his forehead and cheeks. For good measure, she draws a pumpkin vine around his cheek and eye.

_Had a wife and couldn't keep her _goes on his left arm.

_Put her in a pumpkin shell_ gets scribed onto his right arm.

_And there, he kept her very well _is on the back of his shoulders. Along with something else that brings a fiendish gleam to his wife's eye. Who's the canary-stuffed kitty cat now?

An hour and a half after disappearing into their bedroom and the bathroom, a towel-clad Em and Rose -who are a little, uncharacteristically shy- are peeping into Bedward's vault, ready to get all painted up. Em, as instructed, is clutching a brown leather thong.

He's a little nervous.

"Come in, we don't bite," Edward says, throwing a leg over a stool that's much like the ones favoured by doctors , just inside the door, and motioning for Em and Rose to come in. "Anyone but each other," he adds under his breath, winking at Bella. Edward has suspended a sheet, from two large hooks in the ceiling, to make a privacy screen. He points for Emmett to join him on one side of it.

Em and Rose enter, eyes darting around. The walls might be an authentic, milky Victorian blue, and the floor, like the rest of the house, is maple hardwood, but that is where the old-fashioned style ends.

It's a little Gothic. Lots of candles, mirror on the ceiling, mirror on the wall, a large, carved wooden parson's bench... Who knew? Aw, who's kidding themselves? It's exactly what Em and Rose suspected.

"You come here, Rose," Bella directs. She's standing by the side of the bed, close to the window. In front of her is the spanking bench, draped in a paint-splotched white sheet. Grey October light filters into the room through filmy white curtains.

"Well, I know what to put in your Christmas stocking now, Bella," Rose muses, unable to tear her eyes from the St Andrew's cross on the wall opposite the bed. A bunch of rolls of duct tape are piled on the floor beside it.

"Going away to college means acting out a little, right?" Bella says unabashedly, not even pinking up. "We won't get away with having a room like this in Forks."

"Why not?" Rose wonders. She and Em have their fair share of toys. And Alice and Jazz? Holy. He wears a leash out in public for goodness' sake.

Don't even ask about Carlisle. When Esme calls him 'Dr Teeth', the whole family goes running.

"Two good reasons. First? Charlie. Second? Ren," Bella says wryly.

Emmett gets a good look at Edward's bare back, which has gold, Greek letters on it in addition to the rhyme, and snorts. "You really going out with that written on your back, Stud?"

"Huh? What's written on my back, Em?" Edward asks innocently.

Bella cackles. "You might as well tell him, Big Bear."

"You really are a minx, Bella," Em frowns.

"Now you've really got me worried," Edward says, smiling crookedly.

"You're not gonna get mad at her, are you?" Em blinks fretfully.

"I doubt it," Edward shrugs. "Even if I do, she's stronger than me. Best let her have her fun."

"Smart guy," Rosalie murmurs.

"Um, it says, 'I like Greek', in Greek," Emmett says a little nervously.

An incredulous grin breaks out over Edward's face. "Minx!" he squeaks, shaking his head.

"Told you I'd get you back for what you said to Renee yesterday."

"What I said doesn't compare to this degree of gaucheness. I'm going to get you back for this, sometime when you least expect it," Edward promises.

"Ah, you can punish me later, Beautiful," Bella says nonchalantly.

"Grr-wow," Edward says, picking up a little pot of brown paint. "Honey, your Greek is getting too good."

"In what sense?" she says flirtatiously.

"Whatever happened to the Lamb?" Emmett wonders weakly.

"She married _him_," Rosalie says darkly.

Change of subject.

"I'm not painting your privates for you, Em," Edward declares coolly. "You have to do that yourself."

Emmett sags in relief, and accepts the pot of brown paint. After Edward instructs him, and averts his gaze, he applies it liberally to his manly parts, and surreptitiously slips into the thong and glues it down. With Edward's help, Em gets his upper legs painted brown, and then he drops his towel enough that Edward can, to Emmett's mortification, paint his ass with a big brush.

"First, Jasper's Apadravya, now this..." Edward mutters, shaking his head. "Next thing you know, it will be Carlisle. God help me."

"What?" Em asks, peeking over the sheet, being distracted by the sight of his mate getting forest green paint airbrushed onto her privates by Bella.

"Nothing, nothing," Edward chants, slopping cream-coloured paint onto Em's denuded chest with the large nylon brush. Emmett stares at Edward expectantly.

"Doctor-patient confidentiality," Edward declares, unmoved.

"You're not a doctor yet, Stud," Emmett pouts.

Edward raises his brows, surprised. "I am, too. Twice over."

"You last went to med school a decade before Johnson and Johnson," Emmett says with an eye roll.

"That's why I'm here," Edward admits. He sets down the paint brush and picks up an airbrush. "Pass me the white, Minx?" he says, sticking his arm out past the screen. Bella tosses a tube of paint to him casually, which he picks out of the air without looking. "Thanks. Your aim's improving."

"Get stuffed," she growls good-naturedly, blowing a wet raspberry at him.

"I hope so," Edward drawls, blowing one back at her.

"Geez Louise," Emmett moans, wincing as Edward makes him a peg-leg.

By four o'clock, the light outside is fading, and people in the neighbourhood are setting out their jack-o-lanterns and lighting them.

Rosalie admires herself in Bedward's mirrors. She is dressed up like Keira Knightley in 'Pirates of the Caribbean, complete with hat. But she's even better looking than the movie star.

Edward has not made Em into Jack Sparrow. Instead, he has made his face into a leering skull. He wears a shabby shirt, open at the neck, with 'rolled up' sleeves, and a black vest, and a burgundy tail coat with a red rose 'pinned' to the breast area. The 'trousers' extend mid-way down his calves, leaving one black-shoe painted foot, and the peg leg. He also sports a jaunty hat. It has a large red feather sticking out of it.

"This is going to be the best Hallowe'en ever," Rose declares, turning to grasp her sister's hands and give them a little squeeze.

Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rings.

The Cullens race for the door. Edward, being fastest, gets there first. "Well hello," he grins at the tiny children on the stoop, whose father lurks in the background. "Aren't you adorable. Look, guys, a lion and a lamb."

"Sweet," Em declares. The kids look at him mistrustfully: Deer in headlights.

"Here," Rose says. "I have Kit Kat Bars and Cheese Doodles. Those okay, Dad?"

The Dad gawps at Rosalie, but does not answer. He's transfixed by her fake cleavage.

"Okaaaay," Rose says at last. "Cheese Doodles it is. Here you go, sweetie. And one for you, little lamb. You have fun tonight, okay?"

"Funk you," the wee lion pipes up loudly. It sounds like he said something else. Em laughs.

"You're welcome, honey," Rosalie beams.

The little rugrats toddle back down the front steps. Their daddy continues to gape at Rosalie. She smiles tolerantly, and shuts the door. A few minutes later, it rings again.

And so it goes for the next hour, with the smallest ghouls and ghosties on the prowl before the darkness can fall. Rosalie's candy bowl is almost empty. She is getting a reputation with the local dads, who all come to have a look at The Beauty Living at #23. Good thing Em is not like Edward. He just laughs, where other men would beat eye-punters to a pulp.

At 6:30 pm, the doorbell rings again. The paint having dried, the siblings have been sitting around on their towels, watching old Vincent Price movies, which are creepier than any of the modern crap the kids watch today. Once again, Rosalie goes to answer it, candy bowl in hand. Edward watches her go, his golden eyes sparkling.

"How's tricks?" the little yellow-eyed kitten on the stoop grins. Her hair is teased up to look like cat ears.

"Alice! Jazz!" Rosalie squeals, remembering at the last minute that she can't give big, paint-y hugs. Again, Edward chuckles.

Jasper and Alice enter the sitting room, and exchange air kisses and hugs with their siblings. They are covered in paint, too. Jazz is a black and white calico cat. Alice is a tabby. In addition to the body paint, and cat ear hair do's, they sport long, fluffy tails, and black-and-white leg-warmers with black ballet shoes.

" T S Elliot? Lloyd Webber? " Edward asks narrowly. "Jellicle Cat?"

"Hey," Jasper drawls. Only he is allowed to call Alice that.

"Sorry, Jazz. Or, should I say, Mistoffelees?"

"Yeah. Hi, Tough Guy." Jazz says softly, shaking his hand. A cheerful, warm feeling pervades the room.

"What are you doing here?" Rosalie demands happily.

"You don't imagine we would miss this fun, do you?" Alice growls happily. "Bella! You're adorable."

"You, too, Alice. Which Cat are you?"

"Um, Tantomile."

"Tantomile, the psychic female twin?" Edward smirks.

"The same," Alice beams. She really is a Jellicle Cat this evening. "People, we need to go, or all the good kids will be taken."

"God forbid," Edward says with an eye roll. "Ready?"

"Um... where should we keep our keys?" Rose wonders, gesturing at her lack of pockets.

"I know just the place," Edward snickers.

Rose is so gobsmacked, she can't even retort. Emmett bops Edward, hard, on the shoulder. Edward attempts to look contrite. Total fail.

"I've got my bag," Bella says, holding up a little black purse.

"Everybody got sacks for later?" Edward checks.

"Right here, Bro," Em says, holding up a bunch of pillowcases.

"Peachy. Let's motor," Edward says, steering everyone out the door.

Bella chuckles, carefully patting her stomach. "Look. Tigger's awake."

"Oh, please. Let me just get a picture before we go," Alice whines. She perks up instantly, knowing the outcome. Irritating pixies usually get their way.

The vampires suppress groans. But who can resist, when Ren is dragging her foot across her Mommy's tummy? Alice grabs her camera phone and starts snapping.

"Say 'cheese', Tigger," Edward tells his wife's belly. Then, there is a collective 'aw', because the baby has pushed her foot straight out at the front, and its outline is completely visible, tiny toes and all.

Alice takes pictures madly. "Guys? Put your hands next to her foot, quick!"

"Okay," Edward says softly, moving to stand behind Bella. He circles his arms around her, and places his hands gently over hers. Their gold rings, and Bella's diamonds, glint in the soft light of the lamps, and the baby's foot remains plainly outlined between her adoring parents' fingers.

"Perfect," Alice declares smugly. She takes a moment to send the pictures off to Esme via e-mail, knowing that within the hour they'll be all over Mama Cullen's friends' Facebooks.

"Let's hurry," Alice says.

The six vampires depart, leaving the house veiled in blackness so that trick or treaters will not come to the door. It is now well-past sunset, and between Edward and Alice's talents, the group is able to move rapidly to the meeting place on Webster Ave.

The wind blows dried out leaves about their feet, scratching, and speaking to the black pavement. Before long, it will snow.

A large group of eager, tightly-wound kids are already there, mingling, in their costumes, and waiting for college kids to chaperone them around the neighbourhood for Trick or Treat. The Cullens and Hales approach a Frat Boy with a clipboard.

"Cullen," the young man grins, searching for Edward's name.

"Billings," Edward returns smoothly.

Each pre-arranged, safety-approved couple is quickly introduced to a small group of children, whom they will be supervising for the chilly evening.

Soon, the order is established, and the vampires take off with fifteen kids, between the ages of six and twelve, in tow.

"Four vampires, and _one_ werewolf. Sweet," Em chortles.

"Vampires are the coolest," Bella snickers.

The kids rocket up the first drive, and shout 'trick or treat' at the door.

"Remember your manners," Edward reminds the children. When they have all received treats, and thanked the residents, Alice moves to the same door with her pillowcase.

"Trick or treat for Hurricane Katrina Relief," she chimes. The elderly man beams, and produces a can of soup. She thanks him with a curtsey, and hurries to rejoin the group at the next house.

Webster Ave is a _very_ long street when you are in the company of fifteen children, the group discovers.

Before they have gone six blocks, the little pink princess reaches to tug on Edward's jeans to tell him she is tired, and discovers skin instead. She pats him. "Nice," she says.

Gently, he removes her little hand from his thigh and holds it.

"At least if you blush in the dark, nobody will think you're sick," Bella breathes in her husband's ear, kissing his cheek.

"Not blushing," he grunts mendaciously.

She turns his face to hers, and places a soft kiss on his jaw. "You're the colour of the Volvo," she informs him.

Emmett chuckles.

Edward decides that ignoring the teasing will be the best policy. And he's pretty happy, a few minutes later, when another little kid, dressed up like Batman, reaches up to tug on Em's sleeve, and discovers skin instead. Because the first thing that kid does is reach behind Emmett and poke him on the backside.

Now who's blushing? "Um, that's not appropriate," the burly vampire informs the little masked tike. "You never touch a person anywhere that a bathing suit covers unless it's your wife."

"But I'm tired," the boy whines. "I want to go home."

"Uncle Em will carry you," he croons. Within two minutes, the child is asleep in his arms.

After a few more blocks, all the vampires have kids to carry, in addition to large, can-stuffed pillowcases. The older kids, who are _not_ being carried, are starting to drag.

"What time is it?" Bella wonders. She doesn't have an internal clock yet.

"Um, almost 8:00pm, Edward answers, after checking his circadian rhythm.

"We should get them home," Rosalie declares.

"Mine's sweaty," Bella says, wrinkling her nose at the little girl, who is wearing a heavy polar bear costume.

"Trade me," Edward suggests. With a little awkwardness, they exchange her kid for his bag of cans, so that he sports a snoozing youngster on each hip. Pink princess sighs and wraps an arm around polar bear. Aww... Polar bear has traces of garnet-red paint on her cheek. Bella pales a bit.

"Am I...?" she husks.

"No, your paint is holding up really beautifully, actually," Edward says, scoping out her chest. To check the paint, not-

Sigh.

By 9:00pm, they are back where they started, with some wide-awake psychotically excited kids, and some exhausted, droopy kids. Some parents are waiting to take the tired kids home. But the evening is not finished.

Billings is sitting at a card table with a couple of pals. "Wow, Cullen, you guys did great. Thank you so much for coming out," he beams. The vampires hand over the bags full of canned goods, and affectionate parents claim sleeping kids from their arms. One little child remains. He is draped over Edward's shoulder. The vampire rocks from foot to foot.

"Will you really be sending food to the victims of Hurricane Katrina?" Alice asks, a line between her brows.

"I can guarantee you that we will," Billings says happily. "It's a very important cause. Of course, we chose to do this to help families here, primarily. A lot of families who live in the Upper Valley live on the poverty line. But thanks to the great turnout, we have plenty to give our food bank, and enough left that we'll still be able to give a generous portion to the people down south."

"Yay!" Alice claps.

"Thanks again for taking part," Billings says, as a father arrives to take the second child from Edward's arms.

"Any time. It was fun," Edward replies.

"I'll hold you to that. Hey, you'd better hurry to the hall," Billings cautions. "They're starting any minute."

"Thanks, man," Edward says, herding the eight remaining children toward the hall.

Soon, the group gathers in the basement of Mid Massachusetts Hall to hear stories, sing songs, and share snacks. The remaining kids' treat-filled bags have been carefully marked with names, and set aside. Nobody wants a child to get into trouble for touching someones' things or eating unchecked candy.

It is time for ghost stories, presented by the frat brats and their sorority girls. Jazz sends out a slightly spooky vibe, and the children shudder as they listen to dark tales of were-bunnies and goblin kings. After the final story, Jazz sends out reassurance and happiness. A last song is in order:

_Five little pumpkins sitting on a gate,_

_The first one says, "My, my, it's getting late!"_

_The second one says "There are witches in the air!"_

_The third one says, "But we don't care."_

_The fourth one says, "Let's run and run and run!"_

_The fifth one says, "I'm ready for some fun."_

_Woo-oo went the wind, and out went the light_

_and the five little pumpkins rolled out of sight._

The kids meet their parents, and depart for home, thankful for, and thrilled with, their evening out. The volunteers and organizers begin to disperse.

"What next?" Emmett wonders.

"Party," Alice grins.

**Check this out, peeps. First pic is Ashley Greene: **

**http:/body-paint-body-art(dot)blogspot(dot)com/2009/01/body-painting-sports-illustrated(dot)html**


	2. Chapter 2: Making the Rounds

**Dartmouth Hallowe'en: Chapter 2: Making the Rounds**

**Well, I guess you like my little piece of Hallowe'en fluff. Thanks for reading, reviewing, fav-ing and rec-ing. I live for your praise.**

**Love to J and Tam, who are afraid my head is going to explode/implode from carrying so many interlocking stories at once. If only you all knew how many are lurking in my brain, that I haven't dared to start! Mwah hah hah hah. Time, time, I need more time. Sigh. Crazy? Who, me?  
**

**Thanks to an internet meltdown, I didn't get this posted yesterday as I had planned. So watch your inbox for Chap#3.  
**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental. Delta and Sigma House are my invention, and bear no resemblance to any actual fraternity or sorority that may be based near Dartmouth.**

"What next?" Emmett wonders.

"Party," Alice grins.

"Hoo-yah!" Emmett says, doing a fist pump.

"Question is, which party?" Edward asks everyone wryly. "How many invitations did we get?"

"One to the frat house," Em suggests.

"One to the library," Rose says at the same time.

"There's one at Tabitha's apartment," Bella adds.

"And one at Toddy's mansion," Edward smirks.

All eyes turn to Alice, whose eyes morph black and return to gold. "Tabitha's first, then Toddy's," she says. "And stay away from his jelly tub. Don't get hauled in or splashed. We don't need anybody ... exposed."

"Could we stop by at the Frat House?" Em wheedles.

"For twenty minutes," Alice warns. "Longer than that, we'll be part of the crew cleaning up group vomit."

"Ew," Edward says, nose crinkling. "Em, are you sure you-"

"Billings likes you, Edward. Wouldn't kill you to be friendly, would it?"

Edward sighs. "Guess not. Okay, but let's make it quick."

"What's wrong with Billings? Seems a good sort to me," Jasper wonders.

"Reminds me of Newton," Edward mutters.

"What, he makes cow eyes at Bella?" Jazz asks incredulously. Anybody who hits on a married girl is bad in his books.

"Nah. Just reminds me of him, although he does seem a lot more intelligent," Edward shrugs.

"No reason to piss in his cornflakes, then, right?" Emmett suggests.

"No," Edward agrees reluctantly, pushing a hand through his hair.

"Toddy's your art teacher?" Alice asks Bella.

Edward and Bella had an elective to fill, and taking a course together had been a priority. So, yeah. An evening art class. Figure drawing. Wonder why they wanted to try that? Snickers.

"Yeah. Why? Have you _Seen_ something?" Edward wonders.

"He's going to ask you to model for other classes. Nude," Alice reveals.

"And what am I going to say?" Edward asks, bemused. Nope. No freak-out. No sir. Bella has corrupted him.

"How should I know? You haven't made a decision," Alice says, eyes rolling.

They walk on, and out of the blue, Alice cackles. "You'd better never give Toddy a house tour, Bella. He would be impressed with some of your possessions. Genuine masochist."

"Ew," Bella and Edward chorus.

"TMI," Rosalie and Emmett chorus. There's a lull in the conversation.

"I think Toddy's is the place to be tonight, guys," Alice says finally.

"I'll never bet against you, Alice," Edward states firmly.

They have reached the Frat House. It's an old, red-brick two-story with a white-railed upstairs balcony. People are hanging out of every part of the building. Most are already wobbling on their pins. It's obviously a kegger.

Music booms out of the house. Somebody's singing enthusiastic, but horrible, karaoke. A white strobe light pulses in time with the music.

The front yard is done up like a graveyard, with plastic streamers dangling from the trees, and Styrofoam gravestones littered around. There are a handful of humans in soldiers' uniforms,lying on the lawn, pretending to be dead.

Edward sighs, and looks at Emmett, who is beaming. This is just the kind of party Em loves, and Edward finds irritating. He turns to Bella. She's gazing about curiously. The only time they've been to a party like this was at Newton's. And that is not an experience either one of them would care to repeat, seeing as he hit on Bella and she had a hard time keeping Edward from turning him into a girl.

Hopefully, nobody at this party will be that stupid. Well, who hits on a married, pregnant woman? The bigger worry should probably be whether somebody hits on Edward.

The last time someone hit on Edward was at his own wedding reception, and he was too gaga about marrying Bella to even notice. Yeah, Jessica Stanley offered him a last hurrah. Big surprise, there. And the offer went in one wedding-night-I'm-going-to-lose-my-virginity-obsessed ear and out the other. And when that happened, Bella was only three weeks pregnant (how shocking), so she wasn't in the mood to destroy anybody.

Not that she even found out about it. The Jessica incident, that is. Jazz figured it was TMI.

Not that she knew about the pregnancy either. Alice _knew_ that was TMI.

So, hopefully, Bella will not decide to lose her temper. Hopefully, nothing much has changed in that whole vamp-ish 'destructive tendencies' department.

Yeah, right.

Although she now sustains herself through hunting, Bella insists the humans do not smell like food. The only hybrids the Cullens have found in the Amazon who think humans are appetizing, are those who were made and raised by Trads. Traditionals, that is.

Once the hybrids have their babies, however, all bets are off. It depends whether they are taught to be vegetarians. And Edward is very careful to keep his foundlings and Newborns away from humans.

So far, so good.

Back to the story.

Where were we? Oh.

Edward turns to Bella, and she's gazing about curiously. That settles it for him. He never likes to deny her new experiences, involving humanity. As long as they are not malignant experiences, that is. Hah.

Emmett takes the question of attending out of Edward's hands. He barrels up the front walk, and tiptoes over to one of the 'dead' bodies. He bends over and pokes it. It lies there obligingly, hoping to prove it's only a dummy. Too bad the vampires can all hear its heart beating and see it breathing and all. Otherwise, they might have been convinced.

Not.

Emmett looks up at the others with a wicked grin. He extends his finger again, and tickles corpse-boy's underarm.

Corpse Boy rolls over almost as rapidly as a vampire might, intending to roar belligerently in Emmett's face. He does not, however, count on Em's super scary makeup. Nothing like finding a glinting-yellow-eyed skull six inches from your forehead.

Corpse Boy takes one look at Emmett, and screams like a sissy, and tries to slither away from him. This frightens the other corpses in the yard, who barrel to Corpse Boy's defense.

Em only has time to stand up, laughing uproariously, before five fake members of the undead attempt to tackle him and bring him down. Yeah, like that's gonna happen.

They bounce, and fall to the ground as though the whole thing was choreographed for water ballet.

It is hard to tell who is more surprised: Them, or Emmett. And the rest of the vamps are no help. They are falling about, laughing hysterically. All the fake undead are now sitting on their butts with the air knocked out of them.

"I was only kidding," Emmett says, all smiles. "You can get off your keisters now. I wouldn't hurt you." He hauls the first kid off the ground, dusts him off, and gives him a gentle pat on the head. "There. All better. Come on, you big scary monsters. Up and back to your work of frightening the poor hapless humans who dare to walk up the path."

"Who are you?" the second guy Em picks off the ground asks, wincing and rubbing the back of his head. Edward and Jazz help the other guys to their feet, killing themselves the whole time.

"I'm Emmett," Em announces. "Where's the beer?"

"Um, inside. I mean, _what_ are you, a footballer?" the kid continues.

"Uh... yeah. Used to be, anyway. I've ... got a bum knee."

"That's a fuckin' shame, Emmett. You should be in the NFL," Corpse Boy decides.

"Yeah," the other corpses chorus. They're like a little corpse quintet. Short, cute and into heavy makeup. 'Thriller' much?

"Yeah, well, that ain't gonna happen," Em shrugs, eyes twinkling.

"Too bad, man. Are you at school then?"

"Yep. Getting my Sociology Degree. Second year here."

"Cool. I'm Jerry. This is Cole, Harve, Tony and Will, from Delta House," Jerry introduces them. Each shakes hands. "Your friends go to Dartmouth, too?"

"Uh, some of us do," Em volunteers. "This is my wife, Rosalie," he says happily. "She wants to be a mechanic."

"Charmed," Jerry drawls, taking Rose's hand and bending over it. She preens a little.

"This here's my little brother, Edward. He's in Med School. He's a precocious bugger. What courses are you taking, again, Ed?"

"Third year. Don't call me Ed."

"See?" Em says, gesturing at his brother.

"Hi, everyone. This is my wife, Bella," Edward announces.

"Awesome costumes," Cole grins as he shakes Bella's hand.

"Thanks," she says shyly. Edward just smiles.

"What are those, contacts?" he asks eagerly. "I mean, your eyes almost glow."

She blushes. "Um, no. I'm albino."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That was tactless of me. No offence?" he winces.

"None taken. I'm used to it," Bella shrugs.

"I mean, your eyes look very pretty, uh..." Cole continues. Edward just smirks at him, putting an arm around his wife. "How long have you been married?" he gulps.

"Two and a half months," Edward informs him.

Cole can't help looking down at Bella's tummy. Emmett guffaws and slaps Edward on the back. "You're so naughty."

"Hey! Watch the paint!" Edward yelps, not answering to the charge of impregnating his darling girl out of wedlock. Well, he _did_. For which, he might have thanked God about a couple of million times. Without even having experienced the satisfaction of going All the Way. And truth be told, he feels a little cocky about that.

Take that any way you want.

"Paint?" Jerry echoes, looking Edward over with interest.

"Yeah," Emmett chortles. "We're all wearing body paint, and not too much else."

"That's _paint_?" Will asks, peering at Alice, who is nearest to him. She giggles. Jasper growls a little. Alice nudges him softly. Down, boy! Feel the tug of your leash. She picks the handle up in her fingers, and Jasper watches her hungrily. In a good way.

"This is my sister, Alice," Emmett introduces her, " and her husband, Jasper."

"You mean, you're all married?" Tony gapes. "If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?"

"Bella is nineteen, and I just turned twenty," Edward says mendaciously. At least, with the scruffy beard on his chin, he can pass for it. "Jazz is 21, and Alice will be soon. Em and Rose are 24."

"And are you students, too?" Tony asks Alice.

"Technically. Right now we're working in Biloxi with the victims of Hurricane Katrina. We're going to Berkeley in January. Jazz designs computer software. I'm studying fashion design," Alice says proudly.

"A gamer?" Harve jumps in, eyes alight.

"Yes sir," Jasper drawls. "But I don't get to play much. Spend all my time designing my own games, and playing them through to get rid of the glitches."

"What's your game about?" Harve wonders.

"It's a Civil War game. Not nearly ready to sell," Jazz informs him.

"War games, huh? You play 'Call of Duty'?" Harve asks eagerly.

"Yeah, one of my favourites," Jasper says warmly. Everybody starts to feel a little warm and fuzzy, for some stupid reason.

"We've got Playstation 3. Want to play?" Harve asks.

"Uh, regretfully, I must decline. We cannot stay long tonight. Just came to say 'hello' to the fellow who invited us," Jasper says.

"Who's that?" Jerry wonders.

"Billings," Edward reveals.

"Oh, come on in, then. He's in there somewhere," Jerry says happily, bouncing up the front steps and waving to the vampires.

Inside, the beat , along with cigarette smoke, stale booze, and dope, pervades everything. The room is a heaving, stuffy, undulating mass of plastered humanity. Jerry points the way over to Billings, who is sitting a little apart on top of a dresser, one foot on his knee, dressed like a Dandy. His mousy brown hair is slicked back with gel. He's whacking his black patent shoe, with a wicked-looking riding crop, in time with the music. He is obviously sober, and looks a little bored. Edward chuckles, eyes lighting, and whispers in Bella's ear. "I guess he's not like Newton after all. Not a keg party guy. Do you know, dressed like that, he reminds me of me?" Bella snorts.

"TMI," Rose declares as she passes, shuddering over the crop. She and Emmett follow Jerry and his frat brothers to the bar, and begin passing around beer. Jasper gets embroiled in a deep discussion about war games with Harve, and some other guy. Alice stands tucked up against his side, interested in anything that interests him, as always.

"Cullen," Billings says, looking pleased. His New England accent is thicker than usual. "Glad you could come."

"Thanks. Call me Edward."

"Call me Joe. This lovely lady must be your wife. I've been wondering about that wedding ring."

"Yes, this is Bella," Edward says, bestowing a soppy look upon her.

"Congratulations. When are you due?" Joe wonders.

"November 20th," Bella says warmly. It's nice to have the word 'congratulations' be the first one out of somebody's mouth for once. Many people are critical, even though she wears her diamonds and her gold band proudly, and Edward is obviously deeply in love with her.

"You're positively svelt," Joe says, looking her over. "My sister Mariah couldn't get through the door when she was eight months along."

"Oh, don't tell me that," Bella winces. "A lot of pounds can get packed on in a month, you know."

"Minx," Edward says, eyes rolling. "You're not getting fat. You're radiant."

"That's not the problem. And I think you should worry."

Edward looks at Bella quizzically. He doesn't spend as much time worrying anymore. Now he's worried about not being worried.

"You'll be the one looking after me if I fall. I can't see my own feet_ now_," she enlightens him.

Both men chuckle, and Edward kisses his minx on the cheek that's unpainted. "I will always look after you," he whispers silkily in her ear.

"Likewise, Beautiful," Bella whispers back. They share a smile that hints of secrets.

"Quite the party," Edward says to Billings, looking around, and trying not to be revolted.

A few couples are making out in dark corners. Many people are dancing with their large plastic cups of beer. They're _not_ really dancing with partners. They're swaying from foot to foot, making love to their beers. Edward looks at them like they are the aliens and he is normal. As if.

The carpet is disgusting under their bare feet. It's saturated with beer and other ... things. Standing on it is wreaking havoc with Edward's OCD.

A busty girl is getting shots licked off her chest by an extremely inebriated Frankenstein. He leaves half his green face paint on her chest. She's not impressed. She pushes him away, squawking.

Some guys are singing the school fight song, over in the corner, sloshing their beer. And people are tromping up and down the stairs like a herd of pachyderms.

Stereotypical college party. Sigh.

"You like something to drink, Bella? We've got pop," Joe offers. He looks past her shoulder, distracted. "Hey! Take the mary jane outside, will ya?"

" 'Kay," a guy responds, holding the joint over his head and heading for the stairs. Billings returns his attention to Bella.

"Oh," Bella blinks, swallowing hard. Even though the family hunted during the night previous, it is never good to mention thirst around hybrids. They have to feed often. "No, thanks. I'm good." She looks at Edward with a reassuring smile.

"You like a beer, Pumpkin Eater?" Billings teases Edward.

"No, thanks. Bella can't drink, so I'm not drinking either," Edward shrugs. "I'm not a big fan of alcohol anyway, to be honest."

"No more am I," Joe admits. "Too much addiction in my family tree."

"Likewise," Edward says solemnly. If the humans only knew!

Edward is starting to get tense. More people are crowding into the house, and some of them move far too quickly in his periphery, making them seem like prey. He gulps down venom self-consciously. "Look, man, I'm sorry, but we can't stay. We promised a friend of Bella's we'd stop by."

"Damn," Joe sighs. "Just when I found sober people to spend the night with."

"So how come you're here, then?" Edward wonders.

"Well, I'm kind of in charge," Billings shrugs. "I try to keep it down to a dull roar, and I hold their keys to keep them from driving home. Shelley from Sigma looks after the girls, and I look after the guys. I really don't like keggers. We try to have classier parties more befitting of our status, and we have a good rep on campus, and in the community, but, you know... Hallowe'en is a big night. If they don't party here, they'll do it somewhere else where Jerry and I can't keep them safe."

"Yeah. That's very good of you, Joe," Edward says, thinking maybe he should spend more time with this guy he misjudged. They are obviously kindred spirits. "I'm sorry we have to go." A twinge of guilt hits him, but there's no way he can stick around to help clean up sick. The body paint won't withstand it.

Five more minutes. He'll stick it out for five more minutes.

Jerry and his friends are now at the mike. They do a spirited rendition of 'Thriller', complete with dance. It's pretty good. After, Jerry walks up behind Edward, and laughs. Edward sighs tolerantly. He knows there will be more of this tonight. "You're a brave, brave man, going out in public with that written on your back," Jerry snickers.

"Good job on the karaoke," Edward says, thankful that Jerry is also sober.

"Thank you," Jerry says smugly.

"What's on your back?" Joe asks Edward curiously.

Sighing, Edward turns around. Joe barks a laugh. Edward turns back, waiting for his thoughts to be expressed. Joe does not disappoint. "You're a cheeky son of a gun, aren't you?" he demands. "I didn't understand one of your t-shirts, but now that I've met your wife, it makes sense."

Edward usually wears hoodies to Pathology. He can't resist showing off his favourite tees at his Human Sexuality course. The teacher loves them, and frequently makes him stand and provide some comic relief, additionally asking what Mrs Cullen might be wearing today. Sometimes, Edward is a brat and answers that she is likely already in bed, wearing French lingerie or nothing at all. The class eats it up. But, despite his seemingly brazen attitude, Edward spends half the night in that class blushing silver. Good thing it's a night course, and they watch a lot of videos in the dark.

"Which one?" Edward asks, although he has already seen himself in Billings' mind.

"Proof that Spooning Leads to Forking," Joe smirks.

Alice beelines over, with Jasper, Em and Rose in tow. "Edward? I'm sorry, but we have to go. Now," she insists.

"My sister," Edward shrugs apologetically. "Okay, Titch. Joe? Have a good night."

"Thanks," Billings sighs, "But I doubt it."

The Cullens and Hales bid their adieus, and head for the door, pushing past more people who want inside. They barely make it down the front steps before Frankenstein hurtles past them to puke in the front bushes.

"Shit," Jasper exclaims, jumping out of the way of the splatter. He never swears in front of the ladies.

Definitely time to leave.

The vampires hurry as fast as humanly possible down the front walk, and fade into the darkness.

"Just in the nick of time," Alice declares.

"I feel badly for Billings and Shelley," Edward winces. "You were right, Jazz, he's a nice guy."

"Told ya to give him a chance," Jazz says gently.

"We can always come back tomorrow and help them clean up," Rose suggests.

"That's awfully kind of you, Rose," Edward praises her, and she perks up immediately. They never used to get along, but something changed the day Tanya and Kate used his room for sex and left him in tears. Rose acknowledged the sanctity of his relationship with Bee, as she has taken to calling her, and ever since then, they've all been friends. And it doesn't hurt that Bella has asked Rose to help care for Renesmee, either.

After a few blocks of walking, the group reaches Tabitha's building. This will be a quiet party. She's a considerate girl, and won't suffer her neighbours to be disturbed.

At their knock, the door is opened by the be-freckled All-American girl, who beams and exchanges careful hugs and kisses with Bella, Edward, Rose and Alice, and warm handshakes with Em and Jazz. They are beckoned inside, where a handful of people and soft light from festive black and orange tealight candles greet them. It is mellow and serene.

Tabitha is studying to be a librarian, and most of her friends are either Library Studies majors, or Lit majors like Bella. A visit to Tabitha's usually means good conversation about books, music and plays.

The costumes are good. Corey and Celie are Rhett and Scarlet, and Tom and Lisa are The Phantom and Christine, and Everett is D'Artagnan. Tabitha, Rebecca and Sarah are the Three Little Maids from School, which Edward finds particularly charming, thanks to their Edwardian dress.

"You little maids can't fool me," he teases. "You're no lambs, showing your ankles like that."

"I still don't understand why you aren't a Lit or History major," Tabitha says, shaking her head. "You know so much about this time period."

"My Ticuna need an obstetrician," Edward shrugs.

It has escaped nobody's notice that he is likely to be the valedictorian of his graduating class, whenever that's slated to happen. He'll probably complete all his courses in under three years, at the rate he's going. Edward is a genius, plain and simple. His professors know he has a needy population of Brazilians waiting, so they give him private lessons on the side, and rejoice in hearing insightful questions.

They don't even mind him missing classes or tutoring him in the evening, because watching him cope with his Hereditary Coproporphyria ( the autosomal dominant form of Hepatic Porphyria) is so bloody fascinating that they'd all chew off their left foot just to spend time with him. Even if he won't provide them with tissue samples, or play show and tell with their classes, or say how exactly it is hereditary, and yet he passed it on to his bride. And they can't find out the information on their own, because so little is known about the disease that the only person they can consult is Edward's father. And they figure Edward has a right to keep those things private.

Sometimes Bella accompanies Edward to his extra lessons. She sits quietly, usually leaning against his legs while he strokes her hair, and reads. The profs have greatly romanticized their relationship, and adore it when she teases him for being an insufferable know-it-all.

The joy of _Edward_ is, that he's not only humble, but also emotionally intelligent. Not only that, he has a calling to help the underprivileged. And he's pretty to look at. Bella Cullen is a lucky girl. Fortunately, she's also lovable. Consequently, although her friends (and some of their profs) would like to have what she has, even if it would mean contracting his health condition, they are not jealous. Nor would they attempt to come between the happy pair.

Edward likes them all, which is a high recommendation.

In fact, all the Cullens and Hales are enjoying being useful, and well-liked, and are actually studying things that entertain them. So they're pretty happy campers. And they frequently tell Bella that everything that's changed is her fault. She turns shy, and blushes, which is something from which they all derive great pleasure. At every possible opportunity.

"Come and sit," Tabitha urges, pulling everyone inside.

"Oh, we might get paint on your furniture," Edward protests.

"Pretty clever, kids," Tab says, eyes sparkling. "Do you always decide a theme for costumes?"

"Well, yeah. This is the first Hallowe'en we've had with Bella, so it's extra special. But yeah, we usually dress as a group," Edward smiles.

"What's been your best set of costumes?" Tab wonders. "Previously, I mean."

The vampires look at each other and shrug. Nobody wants to say, because none of them ever agree.

"I heard the Muppet adventure was good," Bella smirks.

"How did you find out about that!" Edward demands.

"Esme."

"Who else?" Edward asks, eyes rolling. "It's where she got the nickname for Carlisle. Of course she loves that one best."

"And she said you were Rowlf the Dog," Bella says fondly, "and that you played the piano at the community party. Dance, wasn't it?"

"Mmm," he says, eyes locked on her mouth.

"Speaking of," Tabitha hints broadly.

"No," Edward declines.

"Oh, come on! I didn't hear you last time," Tom protests.

"I'll wreck Tabby's keyboard with paint," Edward argues.

"There's no paint on your hands, mister. I'll get you towels to sit on, peeps," Tab says, jumping up and doing it. On her return, she passes out her spare hand towels and dish towels, and the vampires flick them neatly onto Tabby's chairs and futons, and sit. Tabby puts one on her music stool, and gestures at Edward to sit.

He sighs, deposits his hat on Bella's head, and runs his hand through his hair. "Fine. Only one. What do you want to hear?" he asks the group.

"Something classical," Everett pleads.

"Esme's Song," Rebecca suggests.

"You've heard that a million times already," Edward frowns, "and it's really hard to scale down that piece to this keyboard."

" 'Music of the Night," Tom rasps, right in character. All the eyes in the room fly to Edward, and a couple of people go 'ooh'. No pressure. Right.

"Do you people realize how many times Lloyd Webber modulates?" Edward protests weakly.

"So, play it without modulating," Rose shrugs, eyes rolling.

Edward sighs melodramatically, and his friends and relatives exchange secret smiles. Not that they are hiding anything from him. If they only knew!

He sits for a couple of minutes, looking inward, doubtless planning out some bridges and embellishments. Then he does a couple of bluesy noodles, incorporating a couple of phrases from 'Phantom'. Then, he launches into a compilation of themes from the musical. He plays for ten minutes. Flawlessly. Insufferable little shit.

At the end of it, he comes slowly out of his bubble, and looks up. Everyone is staring, open-mouthed. "What!" he squawks self-consciously.

"Nothing, Mocha-chino," Bella reassures him. "We just love you."

"You're a rock star, man," Tom asserts.

"Nah," Edward protests quickly. "Most rock stars can only play three chords."

"Literal, isn't he?" Sarah frowns.

"Not enough to spend four years learning about Dewey Decimal," Edward growls.

"You have a photographic memory. You could ace my course," Tabby asserts.

"Why would I want to clog up my brain with something that dull?" Edward asks woodenly.

"You got that right," Emmett snorts.

"Where have you guys been tonight?" Sarah asks, nose wrinkling. "You smell like weed."

"Delta House," Edward says, nose wrinkling.

"Ew. I thought they were better than that," Rebecca says.

"They are," Edward asserts. He looks at Tabitha speculatively. It turns into a stare.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Tabby says slowly.

Edward taps his lower lip with a pensive finger, not answering.

"Oh, my Great Aunt Matilda's Ghost. He's matchmaking," Rose reveals, thrilled.

"It's a great idea, Edward. They're perfect for each other," Alice says with relish. Cheshire cat Jellicle Cat.

"How do you feel about blind dates, Tabby?" Edward asks, his eyes gleaming in a predatory fashion.

"No way," Tab says, waving her hands.

"I wouldn't turn this one down, Tabitha," Alice asserts.

"Yeah, Edward's a really good matchmaker," Bella adds. "He's hooked up three couples, and two of them are married already."

"E-Harmony," Emmett teases. "_Edward_ Harmony. Get it?"

"Shut up, Emmett," Edward says out of habit. There's no heat in it. It's just habit to tell him he's annoying.

"So who's this supposed dreamboat?" Tabby asks sarcastically. She hasn't had much fun on blind dates, and never has been in a serious relationship. Always has her nose in a book.

"Joe Billings. Tall, nice looking, and serious about school," Edward reveals. "Twenty-one years old, and a third year Med student, minoring in psychology. Aspires to be a plastic surgeon."

Tabby's grimace makes it clear to one and all what she thinks of that.

"It's not what you're thinking," Edward says softly, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I guess I can tell you the story, since it's common knowledge. Joe's father was a fireman. He passed away as a result of being trapped and burned in a forest fire when Joe was 15. He had third degree burns over most of his body, and couldn't be saved. Joe wants to work with burn victims."

"Oh," Tabby replies sheepishly.

"He has a friend named Shelley Tybalt who heads up Sigma House, but they aren't into each other. Totally platonic," Edward informs her. He doesn't want her scared off by the presence of another female in Joe's life.

"Oh," Tabby says again.

"He has an older sister named Mariah, who's married with two kids, and a younger sister named Daphne, of whom he's very protective," Edward shares. "He works very hard to keep good grades, and manages to raise a lot of money for charity through the fraternity. I wouldn't hook you up with a mindless jock, Tabby."

"Hey!" Em protests.

Edward's eyes roll. "Yes, Em. We all know you have a 4.0 GPA."

"Yes," Tabby blurts out.

"Thanks, Tab," Emmett says smugly.

"No, Em. 'Yes'," she directs at Edward.

"Yes?" he checks.

"Uh-huh," she says, fidgeting a little.

"Okay. I suggest something casual. I'll meet you both for coffee at the Student Center, and if it works out, I'll beg off. Sound okay?"

"Yes. That sounds ... great," Tabby says numbly.

"Don't suppose you've got any McDreamy doctors for us," Sarah laments, but her heart flutters and she glances up so quickly that the humans miss it.

Strangely, Everett colours, biting his lips. The vampires exchange a knowing look.

Edward leans back on the piano stool. "No. I have a McDreamy future English teacher for you," he says. "Same deal. I'll call you, and the guy, to meet me for coffee, yeah?"

"Okay," she agrees quietly. Everett's colouring and blood pressure spike sharply. Sappy date's jealous of himself. Edward will have to set him straight pretty quickly.

"What about Rebecca and Everett?" Alice asks. Meddling little pot-stirring pixie.

"You think I'd leave them out?" Edward scoffs. "Everett, I have plans for you. Rebecca, I might just know a guy, if you don't mind engineers. He's best friends with Joe Billings. Name's Jerry."

Rebecca hesitates, and nods. She does not want to end up the only single in a group of couples. "I'm in."

"Great. My work is done," Edward says, eyes rolling, and dusts his hands together. The female vamps clap, so the rest of the girls join in. Sigh.

"Arrogant little shit," Emmett says just loudly enough to be heard. "Just can't help yourself, can you, Tough Guy?"

"Nope," Edward beams, popping the 'p'. He stands and does a highly theatrical bow.

Everyone snickers about Edward except Em, who is, perhaps, a little subdued. Which makes him feel guilty, because, seriously, he has wanted Edward to be happy forever, and now that he's stealing a bit of the limelight, Em has to step back from center stage a bit. And he's missing the attention, although he'll never rain on Ed's parade.

Tabby announces it's time to watch a scary movie. The group chooses 'The Shining'. She pops it in the DVD player, and soon, everyone is passing popcorn and pulling up spots to watch the movie.

Edward, however, being Edward, _knows_ how Em feels. And he's not going to let the opportunity to be kind pass him by. He nonchalantly wanders over to Em, drops his little towel neatly on the futon, and sits. And gives Em a nudge.

"I've got a secret," he says to his brother.

"What's that?" Emmett asks softly. He can't be mad at Edward. Not for being happy. He's all marshmallow on the inside, despite the buff exterior.

Edward nudges his shoulder again. "I have the best big brother on the planet."

Em looks down, touched. So he does the only thing he can. He grabs Edward in a headlock and gives him a noogie.

Instead of trying to get out of it, Edward reaches up and pats his brother on the side of the head. Em's so surprised, he doesn't react for a minute. Edward's never been affectionate.

Em lets Edward go, and gives him a push on the ear. Edward saves himself from overbalancing before he gets paint on Tabby's couch. "Fag!" Em growls.

Edward just snickers. "Fine. I'll go sit with my wife," he declares. Getting up and taking his towel with him, he sits at Bella's feet by the opposite couch. She reaches down, unthinkingly, and plays with his hair while she talks with her girlfriends. Edward gazes into a pumpkin-shaped scented candle, which flickers on the end table, his face human and soft in the light. But his eyes are too low to be readily noticed by the humans. In the candlelight, they occasionally catch the light and reflect it like a cat's.

The oven timer dings, and Tabby, Celie, Sarah and Alice jump up. "Pizza's ready," Tabby yells. Within moments, paper plates and napkins are passed around, and soon, the big platter of pizza is sitting in the middle of the floor.

Bella looks a little green. She still hasn't adjusted to the unpleasant smell belonging to food she used to love.

"You okay, Bee?" Rose asks softly. Bella nods. She knows she must get used to it.

"Still getting the morning sickness, Bella?" Sarah says sympathetically.

"Yeah. All day," Bella says gruffly.

"You not eating, guys?" Tabby asks the rest of the vampires.

"Sorry, Tab. We don't dare," Jasper drawls, while virtually erasing her disappointment.

She doesn't know how true that is!

"Oh. Would nachos be better?" she offers, an excellent hostess as always.

"No thank you, Tabby," Rose says.

"Worried about a flare-up?" she asks sympathetically.

"Yeah, well, you know..." Edward shrugs. "Don't worry. We don't really miss it. Once the food makes you sick a couple of times, it really spoils your appetite for eating it again. Besides, we ate at home before we went out."

"Oh. Good," Tabby says, appeased. "What did you eat?"

"Protein shakes. Carlisle invented a special mix for us," Edward smiles.

"How do you manage on that?" Sarah asks, wrinkling her nose. "Don't you get hungry?"

"Sure we do," Jasper says, sending some calm Bella's way. "But you get full on a milkshake, don't you?"

"Well... yeah. If it's thick enough," Sarah says.

"There you go," Jazz grins, gesturing broadly with one hand.

The friends fall into various conversations, and then they get engrossed in the movie. When Jack starts seeing ghosts, a frisson creeps through the candlelit room. Is it the movie, or is it Jasper? When the little boy sees the twin girl ghosts, the girls all jump, and the guys chuckle. By the time Jack starts chopping through the door, girls are sitting on their guys' laps, squealing and jumping at every noise, and the single girls are huddled up on the floor together, leaving Everett solitary and left out on the futon opposite Edward and Bella. Redrum. Red-druuuum.

When he gets up to get a pop, Edward follows him. "So, are you game to meet me and my friend for coffee?" he asks.

"Not interested," Everett snaps, cracking open his Coke and knocking it back. He looks at Edward resentfully, telling himself that he's being a dick, because Sarah's lack of interest in him is really not Edward's fault.

"You mean you don't want to go out with Sarah?" Edward asks narrowly. Everett chokes on his pop, and Edward thumps him ever-so-carefully on the back, and hands him a clean dish towel with which to mop himself up.

"How did you-?" Everett splutters.

"I'm observant. She likes you, too," Edward smirks.

"She does?" he asks, open-mouthed.

"Yeah, yeah, she does. She was trying to provoke you into asking her out by asking me to set her up. She thinks you don't like her. She looked at you when she asked me, Dawg." Edward touches his fist to Everett's shoulder, grinning.

"She did?" Everett quivers.

"Yes!" Edward hisses happily. "If I were you," he says conspiratorially, "I wouldn't wait. I would make the first move."

This from a guy who sabotaged his own relationship, and took an almost seven month, near-fatal hiatus? Well, it may be supposed that he learned his lesson.

"I'd ask her if she really wants to meet that guy I'm setting her up with. Maybe she'll say 'no'. _Maybe_ you'll have a girl sitting on your lap tonight. What's the next movie Tabby's putting on?" Edward continues relentlessly.

Everett has trouble understanding the question. There are two words clogging up his brain: 'Sarah', and 'lap'. "Uh, Freddy Kruger, I think. 'Elm Street'? "

"Perfect," Edward grins, and starts to steer a thunderstruck Everett back toward Tab's sitting room.

"What happens if she says she's bound by her word to meet this guy for coffee?" Everett hisses, clutching Edward's arm.

"Then, you go and meet her for coffee. And bring a little present. Maybe, a book or a concert ticket. No candy. She's not the type of girl who goes for traditional gifts."

"She's a closet Sci-Fi addict. I was thinking about asking her to go to the convention in Concord next week."

"Perfect again. Just get the ticket, and give it to her," Edward advises.

"Okay," Everett acknowledges.

The two of them pick their way through the bodies on the floor, and resume their former places. Everett sits alone, fidgeting. Well, no time like the present. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Carpe diem, blah blah blah...

Tabby has started the second video.

Everett gulps nervously and clears his throat.

"Boy, it's sure, um, _scary_ sitting alone for these movies," Everett essays.

Every eye in the room fixes upon him. He clears his throat again. Poor boy.

"Sarah? Willyoucomeholdmyhand?" he asks shakily. The men in the room leer at each other and snicker. The girls all sit open-mouthed. Were it summer, surely the crickets would be heard.

"Bold much?" Corey wonders incredulously.

Sarah manages to close her mouth. Seize the day, no time like the present, don't let this moment pass you by, blah blah blah... She rockets to her feet and deposits herself next to Everett (who is surely thinking of himself as a manly man), and shyly takes his proffered hand. Aw... aren't they cute? The girls think so. They bite back their giggles behind tightly sealed lips, and turn to watch the movie.

The guys all admire his immensely large balls made of solid rock. Who knew?

"Um, guys? I hate to remind you, but we promised we'd drop by Toddy's," Alice winces.

"Oh. Yeah, it's getting pretty late. Tabby, would you please forgive us? We promised Toddy we'd stop by his party," Edward explains.

"Not a problem at all. Thanks for coming," Tabby beams.

"Isn't it kinda late?" Tom winces.

"Are you kidding? We're talking about Hot Toddy," Em answers.

"I'll call you Monday about that coffee," Edward promises Tabitha.

"Tuesday," Alice growls.

"Oops. Sorry. Tuesday," Edward corrects himself. Never bet against Alice.

"You're seriously going to Hot Toddy's?" Corey gapes.

"Why not?" Edward wonders. "He's a nice man, and I want to know what kind of party he throws. Bella and I are curious about his house, too."

"Aren't you scared he's going to come onto you?" Corey gulps.

Edward looks bemused. "Not particularly. I already made my preference clear. Besides, he's got a new Toy."

"Is he the Top or Bottom?" Em wonders.

"Dunno. But I bet we're going to find out," Edward shrugs.

"Well, have fun," Tabby chuckles.

The 'good-byes' effected, the Cullens and Hales depart.

The moon lights their pale, other-earthly faces as they dash into the night.

Jasper's going to fit right in with his leash.

The whole family is overdressed.


	3. Chapter 3:  Hot Toddy's

**Chapter 3: Hot Toddy's**

**Rated M for things most of you have probably never thought of. Yeah, be amazed. I'm just writing it to shock the Holy Hannah out of Bedward. If that idea scares you, skip this chapter. Holy, the things I research for you! It's gonna be an absurd ride for our Victorian Mountain Lion and his Minxy Kitty. Grr-wow. **

**Before you entertain the thought: No, I am not, and never have been, a part of this scene! I don't want another rash of personal questions, thank you. lol**

**Actually, I don't understand the thrill. I'm just strangely curious about stuff. I like Trivial Pursuit, Scene It, and anything that belongs on 'Ripley's Believe It or Not'. That doesn't mean I want to hammer nails up my nose or eat live chickens.**

**I have sources for my material. Some you could easily find online, some you could not. That's all I'm going to say.**

**I wrote this with tongue planted firmly in cheek. Please remember that. This one verges on Crackfic. You are not intended to take it seriously.**

**This one's for Sugar, Camilla, and 2old2care. Because I'm _pretty_ certain that you'll laugh. But I may shock you, too.**

**Yeah. Anthony? I read it to him. First reaction? Total disbelief. Second reaction? A whoooole lot of laughter. Then he shook his head and took himself off to sleep. Getting used to having me write is a big adjustment, so let's hear it for the Twi-tolerant husband! **

**Sugar asked a very good pair of questions: _ What does this fic mean for IH? Will IH end soon?_**

**I'm not into making my readers guess about that, and I hate it when a story I'm reading ends abruptly. Please note: the answer is on my Profile. Go read it. You know you want to.**

**Two requests: First, tell me what you're thinking. Less than 0.5% of my readers review. Second, I need lots and lots of funny pregnancy tees for B&E to wear for the days leading up to Ren's birth. That's at least 50 t-shirts for each of them, peeps. If you've seen or worn one that you love, please lmk.**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental. **

**The opinions of the author do not necessarily coincide with those of her characters. Especially in this chapter. Hot Toddy and his erm, unusual proclivities are in no way connected to actual people ANYWHERE, or events at Dartmouth U. And the event described in this chapter is completely a figment of a warped imagination. No offense is intended.**

**Now. Where did we leave off? Oh, yes. **

_The 'good-byes' effected, the Cullens and Hales depart._

_The moon lights their pale, other-earthly faces as they dash into the night._

_Jasper's going to fit right in with his leash._

_The whole family is overdressed._

Alice has been giggling for a solid fifteen minutes, and she's doing that Mandarin National Anthem thing in her head again. Edward is actually getting annoyed. Seriously annoyed. Which hardly ever happens now that he's lost his virginity, decided God still loves him, and gained a pregnant wife who loves him with 110% of her ability.

"What is it, Titch?" he snaps at last. "You said we should go to Toddy's. Is there something we need to know?"

"If I tell you, you won't go. And it's important that you go," Alice says in all seriousness. "I won't lie. Some things taking place there are going to offend you. But I just get this feeling that if you don't go in, the future will not be as bright. I get a momentary picture of Jane, screaming. But that's all. I wish I could _See_ more. There must be a lot of unmade decisions hinging on this."

"Blasted pixie," Edward grunts. They run on through the park, blurs in the darkness. It's after 1:00 am. There's no one around.

They come out on the avenue, and are at Toddy's gate in minutes. One wonders why he is teaching, when he is obviously so well-off. Perhaps he wants to pass on his knowledge to the next generation. He's a talented artist. Very well-known. And he's in his late 50's, is on his serial-monogamist-heaven-only-knows-which-number Boyfriend, and has no children. So he has to do something to entertain himself, right?

There's nobody outside. Every light in the house is on, because light shines through the cracks in draperies, but the windows have all been covered up. That's odd.

The music is not overwhelmingly loud, thank goodness. The vampires look at each other, encouraged, and push on the wrought iron gate. It squeaks open, and clanks shut behind them. They walk up the cobblestone path toward the huge house. The broad, stone front steps of the sleepy garden are lined with intricately designed jack-o-lanterns.

Bella is elected to go forth and ring the bell. And ring it does. It plays 'School Days' to entertain callers. How amusing.

"Do you smell something odd?" Em whispers.

All nod affirmatively, and turn to stare balefully at Alice.

It's KY Jelly. And other substances you might associate with KY Jelly.

"I told you to stay away from his jelly tub," Alice protests. Not a few of the vamps shudder.

The door flies open, assaulting sensitive eyes with white hot light. "Oh, Edward! Bella! You came!" Toddy squeals in his lisp-y, high voice, flinging his arms around both of them. "I'm so thrilled. Get inside, you naughty kids. You're late. My students come at 8 o'clock for the first showing of 'Rocky Horror'. Or maybe you came late on purpose? I didn't take you for fetishists, but it's always the quiet ones, right? Well, not in my case, but normally. Never mind poppets, things are just heating up. Oh, and you brought _friends_! How lovely. Welcome, welcome!"

Every vamps eyes are black with shock except Alice's. She's trying not to laugh so hard that her eyes are bugging out. Careful you don't bite your tongue off, Pixie!

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Edward says weakly. "_Toddy?_ Gah. What...?"

"Well don't be shy, people. I can see you fit right in. Your body paint is simply divine. Get your cute little asses in here and make some friends. Not many of my students come to these things, you know." He turns and puts his arms tightly around the younger Mr and Mrs Cullen, and hauls them inside. They're in such a state of shock that they don't think to resist. Both of them look back over their shoulders, pleading for help. None is forthcoming.

Toddy's bare ass sashays seductively into the house.

He's not really a guy whose ass you want to see. Its kinda hairy, like the rest of him. And it's definitely not toned. Apparently his coarse, grizzled grey hair has partially migrated off his head onto other parts of him.

None of which have been left to the imagination.

All he's wearing is a domination harness, a cock ring under an H-string with a hole in it, for his flaccid dick to hang out, and a dog collar and leash. Black, studded leather, everything. Oh, and a completely genuine smile.

Alice barrels up the steps and skips straight in.

WTF!

Jasper must _always_ follow Alice. Even if his painted face _is_ a mask of consternation.

Evil, demented pixie.

That leaves Em and Rose.

Standing outside, in the dark, where it's _safe_.

"What do we do?" Rosalie squeaks, peeking into the brightly-lit living room.

"I _seriously_ don't want to go in there," Em says darkly.

"But Carlisle and Esme will kill us if we abandon Bee and Edward here! Seriously, Em! I know they've moved way past missionary, but you know they won't be open to this shit. We have to get them out!" Rosalie wails.

"Rose? I really don't want you in there. It's not a place for you. We'll give them a few minutes, and if they don't come out, I'll go in and rescue them, okay?" Em suggests evenly.

Rosalie looks from Em to the door, inside which glimpses of debauchery can be seen. If they can guesstimate numbers from one room, there are at least 200 people in the mansion. Rose bites her lip, and rocks from foot to foot uncertainly.

"Look, Honey. Jazz is in there, and he has ... quite the history dealing with this sort of thing."

Rose's eyes fly to Emmett, more shocked than ever.

"Maria."

Rose nods her understanding.

"You know he won't let Alice come to harm, and they are more than capable of helping Bedward out. Bedward are adults. They are stronger than these humans. They need to be able to take care of themselves. Let's give them a chance, okay?"

Rose chews her lip for a moment, and acquiesces. She cannot fault Emmett's argument, and she really doesn't want to go in there. But she's not happy about it. Bedward was virginity personified less than five months ago. And Em and Rose are not opposed to experimenting, but drew a line for themselves in the Seventies that really hasn't altered. If what they've glimpsed inside Toddy's house is any indication of what's going on inside, there are no lines here. Or else they're terribly blurry. "So, what do we do?" Rose asks weakly.

Em crosses his arms. "We wait," he frowns.

Meanwhile, Toddy has pulled Bedward into the house of debauchery.

"Now here's how it works. No sex at the party. If you want s-" He catches sight of Jazz and his Lis. "Oh, Come_ here_ Blondie. Aren't you just to die for? This your lucky little pussy? You're not Bi, are you?"

"No," Jasper growls blackly. "And I don't share."

"Oh," Toddy squeaks. "You're the Dom. But... you're wearing the leash. That's totally fucked," he tsks. "You must be newbies, too, like the newly-weds here. Let me explain our rules."

Jasper's hackles are up. He looks dangerous, even while painted to look like an oversized black and white tomcat.

Pulling that off really says something about his strength of personality.

Providentially, since being involved with Bedward's humans and the Brandons, his self-control has improved dramatically. That's definitely a blessing from which the blissfully ignorant fetishists inside will benefit.

"If you don't want to be touched, you wear a collar. Other Dominants will never touch, or speak to, somebody else's Slave or Sub without asking first. A Dominant might touch another Dominant, if they think he or she is open to that. This is a strictly No Sex event, _comprende_? If you want to have sex of any kind, you make your own arrangements with the party in question, and take it elsewhere. This is just a place to play, flirt, learn and meet new friends. No scatting, pissing, cumming, bleeding, or barfing allowed. Oh, and no drugs."

Well, that's a comfort.

"Jesus help," Edward whimpers, blanching. One can only imagine the mental pictures to which he is being subjected. Considering he couldn't get through watching a porno on his honeymoon (Bella was curious), and he's now about to walk into Hot Toddy's House of Sin, it's a good thing his cold heart isn't still beating.

Jasper turns furious eyes on Alice, who is going to implode if she doesn't explode.

"I have extra collars and leashes, if you'd like to borrow them," Toddy offers, overlooking his guests unexpectedly ... cool reactions.

Jasper sticks his hand out authoritatively. Toddy goes over to a little table and fetches him a collar. Jasper snaps the collar around his wife's neck, unclips the leash from his own, and clips it onto Alice's. "You'd better have a damn good reason for bringing them in here, missy," he snarls at vampire pitch.

Bedward is still cringing beside them, trying to figure out whether to run.

"What's your bag?" Toddy asks Bella and Edward politely. Edward regards him in confusion. Toddy doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He's an extremely nice man. So how does one reconcile that seemingly sweet nature with the fact that he has a torture chamber in his basement and a toddler pool full of KY jelly and slippery androgynous wrestlers in the dining room? Which is within view of the front door?

No answer. They have not yet gathered their wits. They are transfixed. There are people in Toddy's parlour, crawling on hands and knees while other people whip them. There are people who are wearing scanty costumes, and there are people who are totally naked, and there are cross-dressers, and people wearing strap on dildos, and there are men with hard-ons, and there are naked people who are obviously half-way through sex change operations. It boggles the mind. It's like watching the first five seconds of a hardcore BDSM porno on loop.

"They're still mainly vanilla, and you're scaring the fuck out of them," Jasper answers.

Toddy's mouth drops open in dismay. He hurries to Bella and Edward, hands outstretched, and takes one of each of their hands in his own. "Oh, my poor little lambs," he croons kindly, tears gathering. "Uncle Toddy won't hurt you. You're so scared you're cold as my dead Auntie Gert in her coffin. Nobody will touch you precious darlings, I promise." He places a chaste kiss on the backs of each of their hands, and grabs a collar and leash for each of them, holding them out expectantly.

Bella and Edward don't move to take them. Can we say deer in headlights? They haven't been this scared since Italy.

They might even be _more_ frightened now, because the only indignity in Volterra came from begging for each others' lives. There's nothing modest about the position they're in now. Leashes? Holy cat crap, Batman, they are mortified!

They are also frightened that they might find out something that upsets the delicate balance of their marital bliss. For instance, what _happens_, God help them, if one of them should see something they _like_?

Jasper snatches the collars and applies them to Bella and Edward's necks. Then, he snaps the leashes in place. He removes Edward's hat and leaves it on the foyer table. "I need him disguised. Got a headscarf?"

"I have just the thing," Toddy declares, digging through a basket. He pulls out a black scarf with eye-holes in it, such as Zorro might wear.

Grunting in satisfaction, Jazz ties it onto Edward's head, hiding all of his hair. He then riffles through the contents of the basket, and hands Bella an eye mask shaped like a cat's face. She hastily puts it on.

Toddy backs away to mingle with some of his other guests and give the new arrivals some space. He really doesn't want to frighten the young people, but he doesn't want them to leave either.

The Cullens have been on nude beaches before. They've also been to clothing optional swimming pools in Europe. Seeing other people naked is not an issue. As for Bella, she's surprised, but not squicked out by the sight of a roomful of naked bodies. Her mother often told her 'a body is just a body'.

The issue is what you _do_ with that body in front of other people.

Jasper huddles between Bella and Edward and hisses forcefully at vampire speed in their ears. "I don't know why Lis insists on bringing you in here, but it's not a good place for you. Or her. Tonight, _I_ am in charge. We will satisfy your curiosity, and you will _stay away_ from this place in the future. Do not step _one inch_ away from me. I will not let anything happen to you. Remember your safe words if anything gets to be too much: Red means it's over. Yellow means proceed with caution. _Don't_ look anyone in the eye. Eyes down. Speak to _no-one_. Got it?"

The gobsmacked newly-weds nod curtly, eyes lowered. Whether it's from embarrassment, submission to somebody who seems to know what the hell he's talking about, or to conceal anger is up for debate. Perhaps it's a bit of everything. Alice nods too, but a more than slightly hysterical smile lurks around the corners of her mouth. "I'm going to _discuss_ this with you later, Jelli," Jasper whispers.

She nods vigorously. However, he can sense how nervous she is. Perhaps most of her giggling is due to bad nerves. They certainly overshadow her amusement at the absurdity of the situation.

"How could you not warn us?" Jasper hisses at Alice. She drops her eyes in chagrin, laughter forgotten.

"Like I said, they need to meet someone here," she laments. "But they're going to learn a couple of things that they'll like, if that's any comfort."

It is.

Jasper drops the subject, and gives the three black leashes a tug. "Do _not_ use any of our names here, understand?"

More curt nods.

Another tug, just for show. "You will address me as Major," he growls, eyes narrowed.

Step back in time much, Jasper? So is this how one controls large groups of Trad newborns? Mercy me. Hopefully there's more than one approach to that duty, because imagining Marcus or Aro in Jasper's place is just... ew.

"Yes, Major," they chorus.

"You will address me only when necessary, and only me," he demands. "Don't make a mistake."

"But they're humans. They can't hurt us," Alice protests at vampire pitch.

"Jelli! There are vampires here. Can't you smell them?"

In this olfactory morass of sweat, makeup, plastic, leather, sex, human flesh, human food, cigars, latex and KY, who is trying to discern scents? The harem is doing its best not to breathe unless absolutely necessary. Jasper obviously has a strong stomach. He must be made of very stern stuff.

"Okay. Let's go. Red. We're out," Edward says, turning to Jazz sharply. Jazz puts a hand on his shoulder, and stops him. _Trust me. Trust Alice. I'll protect you,_ Jaspers eagle-eyes say. Edward's shoulders drop. He nods infinitesimally. An aura of contentment surrounds the newly-weds, and their breathing evens out. Bella's heart settles into a heavy rhythm.

"Why in tarnation are we here, Lis?" Jasper asks through gritted teeth, trying to fathom (and fashion) reason out of madness.

"I don't know. The vision starts at that door over there near the jelly tub," Alice points.

"And you _See_ that something _good_ for these kids is on the other side of that door?" Jazz wonders, cocking his head.

"I _See_ them walking out of it all-smiles. I think vampires are in there. And I think they're good," Alice pleads. "You _know_ I wouldn't hurt Bella and Edward, Jazzy. Or put you in this situation. I didn't _See_ that Toddy would have this many guests."

There's karaoke at this party, too, but it's on a higher level than that of the frat house. A man of perhaps forty, wearing a sexy black corset, red fuck-me heels, diamond earrings and black stockings (and nothing else) is doing an excellent impersonation of Tim Curry, singing "Sweet Transvestite (from the Planet... Transsss-Sexual)". The vampires happen to like that movie. They watch 'Tim' with reluctant admiration.

Toddy returns, peeking at the group anxiously. "Is everything okay? I'll tell everyone not to touch them, okay? Dom...?"

"Major. You can call me Major," Jasper says gruffly, eyes glittering a dangerous black warning.

"Major," Toddy breathes, starstruck. "Major." _Dreamy. _A 6'4", lithe, muscular, self-confident, _commanding_ man. Just imagine him in uniform! Droool. His well-turned-out thighs are to die for. Mmm-mmm-mm. What could be hiding under that black suede banana sling? What's not to love? And those black _danseur_ shoes and white socks put one in mind of schoolgirl uniforms. Toddy would like to peel them off and suck...

Toddy gives himself a shake. "Can you please tell me what they're into, so we don't upset them?"

Too late. Edward is shuddering, and choking down whatever passes for bile in his stomach, on account of his teacher eye-fucking his brother.

"First off, they are _my_ harem tonight. You are _not_ to reveal their names to anyone here. They're only kids, _comprende_?"

"Of course. They need nicknames. Wha-" Toddy begins, but _Major_ cuts him off. Jasper has completely given himself over to his old persona.

"No. Nobody is to speak to them. You talk to me if you have something to share or to ask, understood?"

"Oh, yes. Okay. Whatever you say, Major," Toddy agrees quickly. He wisely recognizes Jasper as somebody higher on the food chain than he is.

"Good boy, Toddy. Now, pay close attention, because I will not hesitate to punish you if you do not follow my rules concerning my harem," Major says firmly.

"I'm all ears, Major," Toddy agrees, tail wagging. He really does want to please his guests. Although being punished by Major does sound ... appealing. Twitch... twitch...

Ew?

"Now, first off, I don't share. And these three are all mine, understand?" Major growls.

Edward bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. The thought of Jazz and himself claiming sexual interest in each other is just plain ludicrous.

"Yes, Major," Toddy says submissively.

"Second, they might be curious, but they're vanilla and they're so straight you could use them to measure shit. They saved themselves for marriage."

"Yes, Major," Toddy says again, fluttering his lashes at Bedward. And they're here to explore their boundaries? Maybe expand them? How _romantic_!

"Third, you will not refer to their presence here, or what floats their boats, in any way at school, or to anyone else aside from me," Major states firmly. He does not need to remind Toddy of the university's non-fraternization policy. It's always a worry.

"Of course not. Our continued happiness here depends upon confidentiality," Toddy bristles, pouting.

"Okay. Now that we've established that," Major says, liberating a black leather tawse from the nearby entrance-way table. "I'll tell you about their fetishes."

Great horny toads! The harem stiffens. What does he mean he'll-? Oh, noes!

"This one," Major says, flicking the tawse gently at his wife's shoulders, "is a bit of a voyeur. She only wants to watch, not participate. All mental and psychological. Got it?"

"Ooh. Yes," Toddy nods. "We get a lot of those. Her costume is lovely. Suits her perfectly."

And the nice thing about it, is that with all the stripey paint on her face, nobody is ever going to recognize her. Same with Jasper. His black and white countenance with the black shiny button nose blurs his features past determining.

"Yes," Major acknowledges. "This one," he says, touching tails of the tawse to Bella's hair, "wants to be a Bedroom Domme. Eager to learn new tricks. But sometimes she ought-a get a good licken'," he frowns.

Bella blushes redder than a beet, but keeps her eyes down as she was told to do.

Unexpectedly, Edward does not growl about Jasper's revelation. Perhaps he's in agreement with that spanking part.

"Do you want us to make her a Toy?" Toddy wonders. Edward growls subliminally. Toddy backpedals. "Or... if you would rather," he stammers, "we could demonstrate techniques of what she could do to Ed-"

"Do _not_ use his name!" Major says menacingly.

Toddy's heart flutters. "Yes, Major. Um, we could demonstrate some instruments on her Slave, to teach her how to dominate him," Toddy tries again. Bella peeks up hopefully at Jasper from under her lashes, looking oh-so-vulnerable. Edward is one lucky guy.

Lamb?

Hah! Not any more.

Major watches the pair, considering, and makes his decision. "No. And he's not a Slave." He gives Edward a smart thwack on the ass with the tawse. Edward does not flinch. Nor does he yelp.

"He's a Weekend Pleasure-Submissive. Not into pain or humiliation at all. Compulsive worker, born leader, and outside his boudoir he's very much the Dom. And _she'_s not a Sadist. She wants to fulfil his need to surrender control, savvy?"

Edward and Bella sneak a look at each other, their eyes wide and shocked. When the hell did Jasper figure this out? They thought they-

Never mind. Trust Jasper. Trust Jasper. _Hummmm_... trust Jasper...

"So what have they experimented with so far?" Toddy asks, giving Edward the once-over. "Oh! Is he alright? He looks grey!"

Edward is blushing of course. He looks silver, actually.

Jasper wafts some comfort Edward's way, then puts his hand on the back of his brother's neck to intensify his influence. It comes across as very domineering. "He's alright. Just afraid someone's going to hurt him," he lies.

Actually, Edward's just afraid his family is getting an unwelcome dose of TMI. Unwelcome to _himself_, at any rate.

"He's quite safe. Dominance is all about keeping Subs safe," Toddy explains kindly. "We don't damage our Toys," he coos at Edward.

"He's not a Toy. He's an over-achiever with a need to release his fear of inadequacy," Major corrects Toddy. "I dislike referring to intelligent beings as Toys. It is denigrating. A good Dom appreciates his Submissive's free will at all times. He respects his Sub's voluntary surrender of independence, and treats him with care, and an eye to fulfilling his needs."

"Oh. I never thought of it that way," Toddy admits.

Edward's colour gradually gets more normal.

"Like I said, they're novices. They play switch games that include Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission. No Sado-masochism. Clear? BD, DS, no SM. They've tried spanking, simple bondage, restraints, and soft floggers" Major reveals.

Toddy squirts in his- uh, nope, no pants- he jizzes a little. Edward flushes even more silver and his eyes go from swirling ochre to offended, infuriated black. A possessive growl resonates in Bella's chest.

Edward, unthinking, spins around and glares at Jasper for this perceived breach of trust, staring him right in the eye. Jasper twists his brother's arm back and pushes him to his knees as expertly and effortlessly as a trainer would sit a dog. Edward pants, vibrating, trying not to go postal, and Bella sinks to her knees and hugs him. Jasper uses his shins to manoeuvre Edward a safe distance from Toddy's doodah.

It probably looks like the harem members are being really weak and submissive, but Jasper, reading emotions, knows they are in positively right-high-tempers and would happily run around poppin' and skinnin' a few dozen of the kinkier guests. Starting with their art teacher. And possibly finishing with Jasper and Alice.

"Respect, young one," Jasper reminds him, and pats him on the head. Edward nods, magnificent jaw clenched, and sets his forehead on Bella's shoulder, forcing coiled muscles to relax. He's reading Jasper's thoughts. And Jasper wants Edward to trust him.

How the hell did he get into this? And to top it off, it was _his _idea to come here! Toddy never thinks about shit like this at school. Well, sometimes his thoughts are a little kinky, but they all star his new Toy, and none of them involve groups, and what they do in his dungeon is not the hell Edward's business.

For what will probably be the only time in his life, Edward is jealous of Aro, because Aro would have known everything about Toddy and not gotten himself, his mate, and his siblings into this sticky situation. And Edward trusted Alice, damn-it! Naturally she's played pranks on him before, but come on! Is this not out of control?

Jasper directs more thoughts at Edward. No, it's not out of control. Jasper has an agenda, and his control over it is complete. Fear not, dear Edward. Jasper isn't going to reveal your deepest secrets.

Alice crawls over to Edward and Bella, and throws her arms around them, providing extra restraint. She's had a pretty clear vision of what Baby Brother is rashly considering. It would be messy, to say the least.

The Annoying Pixie puts her head very close to Bedward's. She hurriedly talks to them at vampire pitch. "I'm sorry, Edward. I would never have exposed you to this, if there wasn't something very important behind that door. I swear I didn't know this would be so freaky. I still _See_ the outcome being beneficial. You're not in danger, of any kind, here. None of us are. I promise, okay? These vampires aren't aggressive , and the humans can't hurt us, right? Nobody here is looking for a fight. You know that, Edward. They're just here for kicks, and they aren't here to rape or murder, okay? And from what I can See, they're just going to flaunt themselves, not have any orgies."

Edward nods once, agreeing, and wraps one arm around Bella and one around Alice, letting them know everything is okay. He's not going to cull out the strange, depraved humans from the mooing herd in order to decapitate them. Not yet, anyway.

What's going on in Major's harem members' minds, and the impression they are making on Toddy and his guests, are polar opposites. Well, anger is often rooted in fear, but the cause of the consequential behaviour is moot. Two wrongs don't make a right. It would not be a good thing for Edward to wipe out the biggest BDSM community in the state. Besides, it would most certainly attract attention.

"Aw, they _are_ frightened," Toddy laments, wringing his hands. "Maybe you should take them home, Major."

Bedward perks up. Yes, please take us home, Major.

"They're introverts who have been playing at being extroverts at school. They're braver than they think. I want to make them more comfortable in their skins," Jasper says gently.

Bedward wilts self-consciously.

"Oh, that Greek, on his back? Is he really-" Toddy begins excitedly. Edward flinches. His powerful muscles roll tempestuously under his skin.

"No. That's just a joke his mate made to tease him. We will _not _be discussing anything that pertains to cocks, anal play or penetration."

Toddy wilts. "Okay. I just thought-" he squirms.

"No. They do not wish, or require, that discussion," Jasper says firmly. Edward uncoils bunched, quivering muscles again. "Now, what do you want to show them?" Jasper demands.

"How about the bondage room?" Toddy suggests.

"Lead on," Jasper invites him. Toddy smiles happily.

"Get up, and walk behind me with your eyes down," Jasper instructs his 'harem' at vampire pitch. "And I wouldn't look around too much, if I were you, seeing as how you won't be able to forget this night."

Toddy and the vampires pass the kitchen to get to the bondage room. A couple of dolly maids are attending to the extravagant array of food, and keeping things tidy. Around the corner from the center island there is a horse trough on the floor. Five people wearing bridles are on their hands and knees, eating ice cream sundaes chock full of brownies out of it. Their riders stand behind them, chatting about banal subjects, and flicking whips at their ponies' bottoms.

Edward, Alice and Bella exchange amused glances. Okaaay, if that's the weirdest thing going on here, they'll survive.

Alice's eyes morph black for a moment, and then she shakes herself. At vampire pitch, she informs Jasper that Em and Rose are about to mount a rescue mission. They figure 10 minutes without contact has been plenty.

Jasper considers. "Toddy?"

"Yes, Major?"

"I need you to send someone outside to admit my companion, Bear. He's going to grow worried about my harem if he does not receive a report. And I am not leaving these little lambs here, or walking them through the house again, to go and fetch him myself."

"Certainly." Toddy snaps his fingers. "Dan? Dan? Oh, there you are. Kindly go outside and see if a gentleman named Bear is waiting, and ask him to come in and see Major."

"You'd best call for him. He might not be where you can see him," Major advises.

"Yes, sir," the Sub says, and hurries out. He's dressed like Frank N'Furter's Monster: silver lame shorts, white knee socks and tennies, and a short, bleach blond wig that makes him resemble Carlisle a little too much for comfort.

Major and his harem enter the bondage room.

"This is our bondage table," Toddy says proudly. It looks more like an undersized canopy bed, sans mattress and linens. He goes on to demonstrate the purpose of different levers, pulleys, hooks, eyes and weights. He is full of ideas, and Bedward has to admit some of them are... not repulsive. Although the condition of the table is. It's stained with stuff they'd rather not think about. Or smell. And they're not touching it with a ten foot pole.

"You know Japanese ropes?" Jasper asks Toddy.

Toddy's face lights with pleasure. "No, but I have a Domme here who is an expert. Can I invite her and her Slave in, so she can demonstrate?" he asks hopefully.

"Sure," Jasper says, cool as a cucumber.

"You want the angel to have a lesson in knot-tying?" Toddy asks, pointing at Bella.

"Naw. I want the Domme to tie up her Slave, and show _him_," Jasper says, flicking his crop at Edward, "how it's done."

"It's intricate. They won't learn much," Taddy warns.

"He has a photographic memory. Anything he sees clearly, sticks," Jasper asserts.

Meanwhile, Dan is calling for Bear to come inside.

Bear is on the roof with his Honey, busily scouting for a discreet way in. Hurriedly, the pair scampers to the ground and runs around to the front of the house.

"Master Bear?"

Em quickly cottons on. "Yes?"

"The Major wishes you to join him inside," Dan says politely.

"Hmph. He does, does he? I guess so. But I want Honey's eyes covered. I like her ... pure," Bear says narrowly.

Rosalie rolls her eyes, but holds her tongue. That's never happened before. A miracle has occurred, for certain.

"Yes, sir. I'll fetch you a blindfold."

"No. Get me a bag or a hood," Em directs.

"Yes, sir."

"Is that really necessary?" Rose bristles at vampire pitch.

"I'm less worried about what you see," Em returns, "than I am about those people being able to identify you. Humour me, Honey. If it comes down to a fight, and I can't imagine that happening with humans, then I'll take it off, okay?"

Reluctantly, Rose agrees. But she's secretly relieved, because she doesn't want to crap up her eternity with pictures of certain bent sexual pursuits that she finds squicky.

In two minutes, Dan is bag with the silky black bag. Em takes her hat, slips the bag over her head, slings Rose onto his back, and carries her into the house. Dan escorts him to the bondage room and politely holds open the door.

Inside, Edward is asking somebody who looks like Doctor Ruth to show him again how she tied a certain knot. There's a poor, dweeby little guy, about 18 years old, half-mummified in orange ropes on the table, and Edward and Bella are watching more knots form, with interest. Human macrame with pressure points. Cool...

"What the fuck are you doing?" Emmett gawps, setting Rosalie down. He allows her to remove the hood. They both gawp at the scene before them: Alice, Edward and Bella, tethered to Jasper via leashes, watching some dumpy, sixty-year-old, crazy cougar-lady in a navy blue business suit tie up her barely-grown Boy Toy.

If Carlisle finds out (and he usually does) that his kids have taken Bella and Edward into a place like this, he is going to go off his nut.

God help them _all_ if Esme finds out. She does not hesitate to ground hundred year old children. Nuh-uh.

Barely Legal Boy Toy is now all secure. His top half is secured to the table, and his bottom half is dripping off the end. In more ways than one. His feet are bound to the bottom of the table with ankle cuffs. He can't budge a smidge. His Mistress adds a large weight to the chain dangling from a leather, cone-shaped collar fastened around his nuts, and swings it so it goes to and fro, like a pendulum. He moans in ecstasy. His eyes roll back in his head a little.

"This is the time to threaten him," Doctor Ruth Mengele tells Bella, smiling wolfishly. "Make them fear the whip, it heightens the trip. I like to use this. It has a bit of a sting when it hits their balls." She holds up a crop with little short falls attached to the tip, and flicks it over Toy Boy's equipment randomly. He whimpers and struggles against his bindings, to no avail.

"Aren't you a good boy?" Mengele croons. "Want more? Hmm?"

"Harder!" Barely Legal Boy Toy shouts gutturally, fingers and toes twisting helplessly.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Edward whimpers under his breath.

Barely Legal Boy is getting decidedly excited.

"How you holding up, kid?" Major drawls in Edward's ear.

"Um, yellow moving toward orange?" Edward says weakly. "TMI overload approaching. I think I've heard more in twenty-five minutes in this place than I've unwittingly discovered in my entire lifetime."

"Oh, goody!" Toddy claps. Edward's gobsmacked eyes flicker up before he thinks to lower them submissively.

"So, bondage table, Japanese ropes, ball stretcher and cock and ball torture. Anything else you think they should see, Toddy?" Major asks with his head tipped to one side.

"Well, um, there's a jelly tub in the dining room," Toddy suggests, licking salacious lips.

"Out of the question," Major snaps.

"How about the dungeon?" Toddy asks weakly.

"Guess so. You okay, kids?" Major checks.

"Yellow," Edward says, squinting.

"Yellow," Bella echoes. They seek each others' hands. Major turns to his wife inquiringly.

"Well, don't look at me. I'm not afraid to look. Green," she grins.

Major turns to the last of his relatives.

"Pass," Bear shrugs. He does not consult Honey.

"There's dancing in the media room downstairs," Major suggests. "We're watching 'Rocky Horror Picture Show'. Should be just about done the third showing. Another is slated to start in ten minutes. Most of the crowd in there is relatively vanilla."

Bedward reels. _Now_ he tells them!

"Excellent. We'll wait for you in there," Bear tells Major. He slips Honey's hood back on, and carries her out, over his shoulder.

"Alright. Come on," Major orders Bedward and Jelli. They descend to the basement of the mansion. Toward the front is a huge media room, complete with chairs. About sixty people are in there, singing along with the movie and doing the Timewarp. Edward and Bella recognize a few classmates. Several people in costumes copied from the movie are up in front of the screen, acting it out. The vampires smell toast and rubber: props for the show.

Toddy proudly shows off his torture chamber. He's spending so much time with this little group of guests, it's apparent that he wants to impress them. One need not read minds to know that.

Alice's eyes turn black, and she starts to tremble. Edward gives Major a nudge.

In the chamber, there's another table, a St Andrew's cross, a jail cell, a bondage chair, a cubicle with a hole cut in it halfway down, stocks, a rack, and a wall of instruments that look like they've been liberated from a woodshed, a hardware store, and the hands of the Spanish Inquisitors. There are clamps and nails and something called Sounds and barbed wire chains and whips and cats o' nine and canes and paddles and crops and floggers and stretching devices and holy crap!

Oh. No. Somebody just flogged somebody else with something that has barbed wire falls. And it cut pretty deeply. And there's delectable blood trickling down the guy's back.

"Red!" Edward bellows, picking up the viciously screaming Alice and Bella under his arms like footballs, and tears for the exit. Major is right on his heels. They run back upstairs, where the nasty smells cover up the alluring one.

"Okay, Lamb?" Major says, tipping up Bella's chin. The harem is huddled on the kitchen floor, shaking.

She gulps down venom. "Red," she squeaks, shivering. "Red. I want to go home."

"Me too," Edward echoes.

"I concur," Jasper nods. "I don't know why you wanted us to go through this Jelli. I want to bleach my brain."

The door from Alice's vision opens, and a chiseled male vampire in a black Armani suit sticks his head out to taste the air.

Toddy comes tut tutting up the stairs. "We told them no bodily fluids," he says crossly. "We've kicked them out. It's alright sweeties," he croons, reaching to pat Major's harem on the hands.

Major snarls, eyes flashing black, and Toddy backs up. "Sorry, sorry," he says once again.

"Major," a Russian-accented female voice moans from within the room of interest.

Jasper straightens up, shocked. "Thalia?" he says incredulously.

"Bring your harem in here," she orders. "We shall calm them down."

"You know each other. How nice," Toddy beams. "You go right on ahead, my loves. Have a nice relax while the dollies clean up the blo-"

"Don't say it! It upsets them," Major barks. He takes a deep breath. "You do not need to try to impress me any more, Toddy. I am impressed. This is the largest, kinkiest Munch I have seen in many a year."

"Thank you, thank you so much," Toddy beams toothily, missing the flicker of Jasper's momentary sneer. He never said he was _favourably_ impressed. He hates these things.

"You might want to take them in the back bedroom after they've seen my gallery. My friends who are in sales have their wares on display in there, and some catalogues to take home," Toddy supplies helpfully.

Jasper nods curtly, knowing without asking that the wares are being _sampled_, not just displayed. He'll send a Sub in there to grab a couple of catalogues. No way is he taking his white-as-the-driven-snow harem in there.

Major pulls his harem into the gallery, and the chiseled vampire closes the door.

It is a huge, vaulted-ceiling-d room, painted a soft white, and Toddy's glorious pictures coat the walls. It is hushed. Blessedly quiet and not stinking of Munch. It must be fire-proofed.

Jasper elegantly walks his harem across the floor, leashes in one hand, tawse in the other, to face the ancient female sitting in a gothic-looking chair. Four guards dressed like Subs flank her. The chiseled vampire moves to stand behind her chair, resting a possessive hand on her shoulder.

"Thalia," Jasper says, his posture self-assured and open. The words roll off his tongue smooth as melted chocolate. "I thought you were dead."

Alice examines the female frankly. Is she competition?

"Likewise," the blunt-featured female returns coolly. "I am pleased to see you. I take it that the little one is your mate. This is my mate, Taliriktug."

"Siberian?" Jasper murmurs, surprised. "Hello. I'm Jasper Whitlock Hale."

The males shake hands.

"My mate, Mary Alice Brandon Cullen Whitlock Hale," Jasper introduces her. Thalia nods regally, and Alice bobs her head shyly. "She prefers to be called 'Alice'."

"Come, now!" Thalia laughs. "There is no need to pretend here. It is obvious that you are here under false pretences, same as me. You are no Sub, Alice. Neither are those two, even if _he_ might play at it."

"That one, and Alice, are shamans," Taliriktug declares, pointing at Alice and Edward, meaning that they have the power to see and hear what others cannot.

"Hmm, interesting," Thalia drawls, smacking her riding crop against her tall leather boot. Uncrossing her legs, she stands and approaches the harem, sniffing curiously. She stops in front of Jasper. "I have missed you, my friend."

"Had I known you lived, I would have missed you, as well," Jasper frowns.

"I was afraid of Maria, dearest. I did not dare pursue, or search, for you."

Jasper grunts. "Your eyes. They're different. You are adhering to my diet, but you have not been for long. Tell me your agenda. Let us not play games."

"I have been cultivating a relationship with Toddy in hopes of affecting an introduction. I am here to see your brother."

Alice's eyes morph black, and turn to solid gold. She beams at Thalia.

"Take off your collars and masks," Jasper orders, dropping the leashes. The harem numbly complies. One of Thalia's Subs collects them, and Jasper's tawse, and retreats to the foot of Thalia's chair.

Edward flexes his shoulders and widens his stance, his dominance radiating outward.

"My brother: Dom Edward Anthony Masen-Cullen Yawaruna, Patriarch of the Amazon and Rio di Janiero Territories," Jasper announces proudly.

"I am thrilled to meet you, Dom Edward," Thalia smiles solemnly. "But is Carlisle Cullen not your father anymore?"

Edward stiffens proudly. "Carlisle Cullen is, and always will be, my father."

"I am glad. I should like to meet him one day," she muses.

"My mate, Dona Dyäwë Isabella Marie Swan Masen-Cullen di Yawaruna," Edward says smoothly. "She prefers 'Dona Bella'."

"Charmed. It is long since I have encountered a hybrid," Thalia smiles, shaking Bella's hand. "Lady Nathalia Yvechenko Bella Russe Montenegro Siberia."

"Thank you," Bella replies, holding her chin up proudly.

"And these?" Thalia gestures curiously.

"My brother and vice-Dom, Emmett Wallace McCarty Cullen di Yawaruna," Edward announces. "And his mate, Rosalie Lillian Hale Cullen di Yawaruna."

"How beautiful you are," Thalia says admiringly, and Rose flushes with pleasure.

"She is also very fierce and level-headed," Jasper compliments Rose, who flushes further. She's not accustomed to receiving that kind of compliment, and she treasures them.

"A good female to have in a fight," Thalia declares. You are going to need good fighters, Dom Edward. Maria has allied herself with Caius, seeking the downfall of Aro, Marcus, Carlisle, and yourself. She is as hungry as ever for unmitigated power and reckless freedom. The battle is coming."

**Taliriktug: _The Strong Arm._**


	4. Chapter 4: Scariest Halloween Ever

**Chapter 4: Scariest Hallowe'en Ever**

**This story was meant to be all fluff. But sometimes angst-y things just come out on their own, earlier than they were intended to. I've left the big revelations out of this fic. You'll get all the story about Thalia, the coming war, and an unhappy moment in Edward's past in 'I Hunger'. As soon as I've caught up that story line to this one. IH has two months of Bedward's lives to cover before that happens. Sigh. I is _so_ mean.**

**I spent Saturday morning in Emergency holding hands with one husband, who attempted to amputate his thumb whilst doing plumbing. Grr. Not necessary to celebrate Hallowe'en in this fashion. Other people read the paper and drink coffee at 9am on Saturday. He does repairs. Sigh. He's fine. No serious damage, just one bone-deep cut, and several stitches. **

**Thursday before last, I spent the day in Children's Emergency with one daughter, who decided to severely sprain an ankle by tripping in a hole at school. Bella much?**

**Therefore, posting has been slightly delayed. There are three more chapters. I'll post them over the period of the next week.**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental. **

**The opinions of the author do not necessarily coincide with those of her characters. **

"_How beautiful you are," Thalia says admiringly, and Rose flushes with pleasure._

"_She is also very fierce and level-headed," Jasper compliments Rose, who flushes further. She's not accustomed to receiving that kind of compliment, and she treasures them._

"_A good female to have in a fight," Thalia declares. You are going to need good fighters, Dom Edward. Maria has allied herself with Caius, seeking the downfall of Aro, Marcus, Carlisle, and yourself. She is as hungry as ever for unmitigated power and reckless freedom. The battle is coming."_

Thalia and her companions are gone, with plans to meet the Cullens in Forks, in late November after Ren is born. The Cullen-Hale vampires leave Toddy's gallery an hour after they entered it, solid smiles lighting their faces. The psychic trio is convinced that she will be a useful, and trustworthy, ally. Like their other allies, Thalia wants peace, security and responsible freedom. And she wants to stop Caius and Maria, who are monsters of the worst kind.

Toddy's remaining fetishists grew tired. Many are passed out on the floor of his living room. Nobody is in the KY tub. A few individuals are chatting in the kitchen, drinking hot milk and tea.

Apparently, even kinky people wear out eventually, and 3:30 in the morning is not a great time for karaoke. It's not even a great time for 'Rocky Horror'. Don't ask about the torture chamber or the bondage den, because nobody is going in there to look.

Toddy himself , now clad in a terry robe, is sitting in a sleek leather chair in the living room, stroking the hair of a sleepy Sub. His boyfriend.

He is sitting at Toddy's feet, and is much younger than Toddy. He has a lot of thick, dark hair. He's very handsome. Hopefully, he and Toddy appreciate each other. What do you call a male cougar? Oh. A _man_.

The Cullen clan stops in the front hall to divest themselves of paraphernalia that belongs to Toddy. Toddy sits up, gently moves his boyfriend's head so he can rise, and pads over to the vampires.

"Major," he says a little sadly. "Did you have fun with Thalia?" He tries on a smile to see if it will be well-received.

"We had a nice chat, thank you, Toddy." Jasper says softly, not wishing to disturb those who are sleeping. "You are a wonderful artist. I'm interested in your painting of the horse's hooves in water."

Toddy perks up. "Oh, you like that one?"

"Yes. It reminds me of my childhood," Jasper says, daydreaming. "I'll call to discuss price on Monday."

"Thanks," he says, surprised. Toddy sneaks a peek at Edward, and finds him standing straight and tall, looking him in the eye. He's no longer anxious, and he's no longer acting like a Sub. But he's still wary of Toddy.

Toddy's eyes flicker over to Jasper. "May I speak to your Sub, Major?"

Alice's eyes morph black, and back to gold. She looks uncomfortably at Edward, and away, but says nothing.

Playtime is over. "Not my Sub, _Bella's_ husband," Jasper corrects him. "And he's finished playing his part for tonight. So as long as you speak to him politely, you may carry on."

"Thank you, Major," Toddy says warmly. He turns to Edward, who looks a little uncomfortable. Of course, he already has the gist of what Toddy is going to say.

"Dear boy," Toddy begins. "I'm sorry I upset you and your lovely young lady tonight. See, I assume the students gossip. And only one time, has a guy shown up here so late, who was in my class, and he was really kinky. So I assumed you were, too. But I understand you're not. So will you please forgive me? Both of you?" he blinks.

Bella, being Bella, nods timidly. She'll forgive Toddy, because he didn't mean to upset them, but she'll be mindful of his attraction to Edward, and leery of being approached. Bella's never going to be an exhibitionist. Never going to share herself, or Edward. And admittedly, she has trouble understanding and respecting that kind of behaviour. She's territorial. Which is part of why Edward loves her.

"Um, yeah," Edward says, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I... have to admit, you threw me for a loop, coming to the door dressed like that, Toddy. And the naked people running around playing games were kind of ... overwhelming."

"Yes, well, they normally don't start to play until after the first group of movie watchers has gone," Toddy informs him, nervous enough of criticism that he's going to politely defend himself.

"Yeah. We didn't know the routine. And it didn't occur to you to tell me. It's just that... exhibitionism is not something with which we're ... comfortable. And sharing is... not our bag. So I wish that you'd been up front with it, Toddy. We'd have come to the vanilla event, you know, because you are a nice person. But the Munch was not a place where we would choose to be."

Toddy looks sad. He's sorry his guests were upset. He really did have good intentions, however misguided. "I understand."

Edward nods. "Okay."

Toddy sniffles a little. "You're not going to be friends with me any more, are you?"

Edward squirms. A lot of things go through his mind very quickly. He fears what he does not understand. He fears Toddy's behaviour, that he has been taught since infancy is depraved. He rejects the idea of orgies, and multiple sex partners, that his 1910's minister ranted against. That his Bible said God considered a sin. And Edward should not have to apologize for his reverence for monogamy and the sanctity of marriage.

There's something surprisingly childlike about Toddy, considering how kinky he is. Edward doesn't want to hurt his feelings, just because he doesn't understand or share Edward's morals. Edward's moral compass differs, but he does not have the right to judge Toddy or be cruel to him. And if Edward still belongs to God, like Bella taught him, he should treat Toddy with respect and affection.

"Um. Well, we can be ... school friends, yeah? But... a little more ... formal, if you don't mind. And Bella and I? We're thoroughly monogamous. So, friends only, okay? No benefits. If you..." he hesitates to say it. "If you... flirt with me, I can't be friends."

Toddy bursts into tears and enfolds a caught-by-surprise Edward in his arms. He plants a chaste kiss on each of Edward's cheeks. This is formal? Edward gently disentangles Toddy's arms, and holds him back, bending over to capture his eyes.

"Toddy, I'm not comfortable with being touched by people I don't know well. I hardly ever even hug my brothers."

"Oh," Toddy says darkly, his mind conjuring a million pictures.

Edward sighs, shutting his eyes. "Look, I dunno why I'm going to tell you this, okay? I get the impression that you're not one to gossip about people's secrets. This doesn't go further than my companions, and you."

"Okay," Toddy trembles, terribly worried about Edward's state of mind.

"I'm not turning down your affection because I'm homophobic, because I'm not. There's absolutely no difference between the love you feel for your boyfriend, and the love I feel for my wife."

"Thank you," Toddy gulps. But he trembles. What is Edward going to say?

"Um, I'm adopted," Edward shares. "My parents died. It was ... horrific. It was... traumatizing."

"I'm sorry," Toddy whispers.

"Um, well, it's water under the bridge. Can't dwell on it. I had a wonderful, affectionate mother and a father who wanted the best for me. I knew they loved me, but ..." He stops.

"Tell them, Edward," Bella demands, looking unexpectedly fierce.

He is highly anxious. He irons his forehead with his hand. His siblings don't understand it.

Edward blows out a breath, nodding curtly. He looks at the plain expanse of wall behind Toddy, and blanches whiter than the finest alabaster. He's almost literally translucent. "I had a step-brother and step-sister. They hated me. And my father's father terrorized me. He lived with us. My siblings played jokes on him, and took his things, and blamed me. He told me constantly that I was no good. My mother didn't catch him at it. He died when I was five, but I think it gave me the ... compulsion ... to keep my parents happy."

"Tell them about your father," Bella says firmly.

"He wasn't a bad man, Bella," Edward protests. "He was a product of his environment. And he was a much nicer man than _his _father."

"Say it," Bella snarls, black eyes narrowed. She's been angry for months that Edward hasn't placed blame where it belongs.

"I wasn't really bad. I was bratty sometimes, but not -" Edward says rapidly.

"It was wrong."

"I ... My father was... wrong." The light goes on in his head.

Bella conceals her triumph. "Say it," she hisses.

"He... hit me."

"He beat you," Bella corrects him.

"He beat me." Edward admits. "Not often, but once... pretty badly."

Toddy lowers his pity-filled eyes. He knows Edward won't want it.

Edward turns firmly to Toddy. "I'm going to be completely honest. I don't want this lifestyle. I'm sorry. I want my love life to stay private. I won't say I didn't learn anything interesting tonight, but being around other people, especially people who enjoy giving or receiving pain? I can't. I don't want pain. I don't want humiliation. There's been enough of that in real life."

"I understand," Toddy says, giving him a little pat. They certainly aren't compatible. He has no remaining romantic interest in Edward. "Thank you for being honest. You can trust me. I won't tell anybody."

"I know that Toddy. I wouldn't tell you otherwise," Edward says, smiling ruefully.

"You're a nice young man. You must have a great family now."

"Once my tormentors left home, I had a great home with my birth parents. But, yes. I have wonderful adoptive parents and siblings. I'm very lucky," Edward smiles.

" And you are lucky to have Bella. I can tell you really love each other, and take care of each other," Toddy smiles. "And you don't need anything outside each other to keep the fire burning. I don't see that very often."

Edward would tell him they're newly-weds, and they had better not be bored, but he doesn't want to give Toddy the idea that in a few years they might _get_ bored and revisit the idea of getting involved in his scene.

"We were born in the wrong Age," Bella says, eyes rolling.

Toddy laughs a little. "Maybe. But the world could use more people like you. Are we okay?" he asks Edward, who runs his hand through his hair. It's his 'tell'.

"Um, yeah," Edward sighs.

"So, no hard feelings? You won't drop my course?" Toddy checks. "I really do think you're both talented. I wouldn't want this evening to spoil the lessons for you."

"No, we'll stick it out. I think all our boundaries are now pretty clear," Edward smirks.

Toddy looks down, and peeps up at Edward. "You're not ... repulsed by me?"

Edward turns his head, and laughs a little. "Frankly, Toddy, what you do totally squicks me out. But it doesn't mean I'm going to be burning crosses on your lawn or anything. And it doesn't mean I can't appreciate the goodness in you. Frankly, I've met a lot of monsters, and you just don't qualify."

"Gee, thanks. I think," Toddy smirks. "I was going to ask you if you'd be interested in doing any modelling," he shares.

"No, I think not," Edward smiles.

"Thought so. Um, before you go, I'd really like to do something for you. Because you're young and shy, and probably don't like to go to stores. Not to flirt or anything."

Edward looks curiously at his art teacher, although he knows it involves a rather intriguing box.

"Um, my friends who sell wares? They give me all kinds of free products, and I pass them out. You missed getting door prizes, and my goody bags won't interest you. But ... if you'll consent, I'd like to give you some stuff that I know you'll all like," he says to the group.

"Oh, no, that's okay, Toddy. We can buy what we want on the Net," Edward shrugs. "You should hand it out to your friends."

"Please," Toddy pleads. "I have tons of the stuff, and it just sits around. I handed out a shitload of it tonight. Please? I know you'll like it, and it will save you searching for stuff, and going to places that will make you feel awkward."

"Well..." Edward says uncertainly.

"Edward, it's impolite to refuse a gift," Alice reminds him. He looks at her intensely for a moment.

"Okay," Edward sighs, running a hand through his hair again.

"Thank you," Toddy claps, scooting away to his back bedroom. He comes back practically skipping, with a large box in his hands. "I know there will be something in here for all of you. Everything's sealed. Brand new. And you won't find better quality," he promises.

"It's very generous of you, Toddy," Edward says sincerely.

"Oh, I just love to give gifts, especially when I know it will make people happy," he enthuses.

"I can tell. Thank you," Edward says, accepting the box.

"We should be off," Jasper murmurs.

"Well, thank you for coming to my party, even if it wasn't what you... expected," Toddy smiles softly. "It was lovely meeting all of you."

"Thank you... for having us," Rose says. The others give her a rather funny look. Except Edward, who understands that she was raised to respect the formalities.

"Edward, just this once, could I hug you?" Toddy asks.

"Dressed like that?" Edward says, looking at Toddy in his white robe, his eyes twinkling. "No way, José. There's not enough fabric between thee and me."

Toddy wilts a little.

"I'm joshing. Just this once, mind," Edward says, pretending to be stern. He shifts the box a little and holds out one arm to Toddy, who offers him a brief, gentle hug.

Toddy steps back, sighing with satisfaction.

Everyone wishes him a good night, and Jasper gives him a pat on the head on his way out. "I'll call you Monday," Jasper says. "And arrange about delivering the painting."

"Thank you, Major," Toddy beams, wondering whether the Major will, at that time, give his name. He wonders in vain. There's no way Jasper wants anything to do with fetishists.

They go into the night. And facts come out. Secrets. Something even Bella didn't know.

Just once, Edward was badly beaten by his father. The consequences were traumatic.

He cannot remember why. Nor does he wish to. He is happy now, and would sooner not have the memory of a brutal beating mar his recollection of his father any further. He loved his parents and he always will. And he loves his family now.

Is his recollection of a happy childhood artificial? Doesn't matter.

And his brothers realize something. Something important. Something heart-warming, yet humbling. An epiphany of sorts.

Their brother the loner? He has always played with them. Wrestled, and argued, and teased, and played pranks, and took punches, and punched back. He knew that he was loved, and loved them back. Not to mention that he moved over and made everyone welcome in his family. Took them under his wing in their moments of weakness. Offered them unstinting forgiveness in the wake of their failures. And taught them a shit load of stuff about valuing people. Why? Because love is not an adjective, or just a word to be thrown about. Love is a verb.

He is a _lot_ stronger than any of them ever suspected.

"You're happy now," Jasper states.

Edward seizes on it. "Yes. And I don't want to cry over things that can't be altered. Do you understand?"

"Totally," Jasper affirms.

"Why the BD-DS, Edward?" Alice asks narrowly. "How can you play the game?"

Edward's eyes flicker self-consciously. "It ... I dunno. It ..."

Jasper harrumphs. "It replaces something horrible with something intensely pleasurable. Like the flip side of a coin."

"Yes. That's it," Edward says, seizing on the explanation. They saunter through the park slowly. "You're going to use it on me, aren't you?" Edward asks, subdued. "Your talent."

"That alright?"Jasper wonders. "Don't want to fret your life away, do you?" he teases.

"No, I don't. It was a long time ago. Yeah, it's okay." He stops and faces Jasper squarely.

Jasper locks eyes with Edward, and tells him to relax. He places his hands on Edward's shoulders.

A blessed feeling of relief and contentment seeps into his skin. His bones. His sinews. He absorbs it gratefully. He is free.

Jasper knows it. And the eyes of the women are shining. One woman in particular shines.

Jasper throws an arm over Edward's shoulder, and starts to walk toward home at #23. Em catches up, and throws an arm over Edward's other shoulder. They walk onward, together. Behind them, the girls link arms and skip, giggling.

Alice catches up to Jasper. "So, am I still in the doghouse?" she asks cheerily.

Of course she knows the answer already. She's psychic, for goodness' sake!

"I'll let you off, but only because of Thalia," Jasper winks.

"Oooh. You are in trouble, mister," Alice frowns, rolling her eyes. "You know it was a good thing we went. Otherwise Edward wouldn't have-"

Jasper growls. "If you dare to tell me 'I told you so', I am going to take you back to Toddy's and introduce you to some Medieval torture equipment."

"Hah. I second that," Edward says, grinning lopsidedly. But he never bets against Alice, because advice based on her predictions almost always makes life better for somebody. "Ah, maybe not. I don't ever want to set foot in Toddy's house of horrors again. Well, Jazz and I can torture you at my place. I can adapt our stuff for that."

"Hmph! Very funny," Alice pouts.

"Not joshing," Edward says, smiling crookedly. "You joshing, Jazz?"

"Nope. Not joshing," Jasper says, smiling at Alice with a wink.

"I'm not into Medieval torture," Alice shrugs, "but there are some nice things from Hot Toddy in that big old box," she reveals.

Edward groans. "How the hell are we going to split up the contents of this box? I mean, without everyone knowing what everyone else is into?"

"I'll sort it out, put the stuff in baskets, and deliver it," Alice promises.

"Tremendous," Edward says, eyes rolling. "She gives me the scariest Hallowe'en ever, and then tells me she's going to choose toys for us, Minx."

"Pretty terrifying, Mocha-chino," Bella agrees.

Alice snorts. "See Em? You're wrong. The Victorian's not dead, he just lurks. You can take the boy out of the Age, but you can't take the Age out of the boy."

"Who are you calling a boy?" Edward protests. "And is that another crack about my age?"

"I call 'em as I _See_ 'em," Cheshire Cat Tantomile grins.


	5. Chapter 5:  Gifts

**Chapter 5: Gifts**

**We are coming to the end of this little future shot. So, I thought you might like a little lemonade from each of our couples. You like lemons, right? Lol This chapter belongs to Em and Rose. Two more chapters to go after this one. Rated M for a reason.**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental. **

**The opinions of the author do not necessarily coincide with those of her characters. **

Alice sits on her siblings' sitting room couch, and digs through Toddy's box. She and Jasper have enjoyed a quickie out in the woods, and have showered, and changed into the clothes that she habitually keeps handy at #23, as she does at all the houses they frequent.

Jasper is chatting with Bedward in their room. Checking up on their emotional state. Joking about the _accoutrements _of the room, and making outlandish suggestions, about making use of them, in the way that men do when they tease their brothers. He's also shared how tired he got of keeping Maria's newborns on leashes. Literally.

Big subjects are disguised as small talk. Healing for three, served up in manageable, painless doses.

The sad fact of Jasper's life is, he can do so much to help improve the lives of others, but nothing to erase his own pain. Only his loved ones can do that.

His assistance isn't in the artificial alteration of mood, it's in the healing words and gestures that go with it. The Cullens appreciate him. They'd love him regardless, but they appreciate the way he enriches their lives. They don't take him for granted, and they don't make demands that he help them. Nobody has ever pressured him to solve their problems. He appreciates that. You might say it's a mutual admiration society.

But since Edward told him, when they visited Bedward on Esme's Island, that he has _always_ been wanted, _always_ been loved as family, Jasper is now willing to unburden himself on his brothers-in-law. So, he's healing, too. Finally.

Alice hums happily. The alterations to the family dynamic that Bella's arrival brought about thrill her. She _Knew_ Bella would be the catalyst of change. Life is just so much better for everyone. Edward's demons are pretty much dead. Jasper is fully integrated into the family, and has such control over his thirst, that not only does he have human friends and interact with Alice's relations, he has a pet kitten, and regularly babysits their great, great niece, Apple, age four.

An hour with Jasper, for Edward, waters down a century of pain so much, that the fallout from a solitary instance of horrific abuse won't screw up his life any more. So Edward will heal from his wound, that's had the scab taken off, and the infection cleaned away. He would likely have worked through his troubles on his own eventually. But Jasper has accelerated the process.

Lucky Edward.

He'll still be the Edward they've always known. The Edward who has been a sweet, self-sacrificing fellow since the day they first met him. A witty, fun-loving guy, who has always been willing to tag along for some idiotic stunt his siblings had planned out, ostensibly to pull their asses out of the fire. In reality, he usually laughed right along with them. He'll be the same Edward who seemed young, and unspoiled, and refreshingly innocent. Like a tart, crisp, red apple. And never unkind. Oh, no. Never, ever, unkind.

He'll still be the Edward who emerged from his shell to love a human girl. Who got dragged by that girl out of his shell even further, to become an extremely entertaining person to be around. A leader. A thoughtful man. An admirable person.

Jasper's aversion to being in charge of newborns is part of why Edward asked Emmett to be his assistant Dom, instead of Jazz. Two other main factors included Jasper's obligation to help the Brandons after Hurricane Katrina, and Edward's wish to give Em and Rose purpose and occupation. Besides, if the war does happen (as seems likely), Jasper's skill as a tactician will be required, and that will be more than enough responsibility for him.

The stuff Alice has chosen for herself and Jazz is still in the box. They'll take it home with them.

The two baskets are just about ready. As usual, Alice has gone over the top, insisting that Rose find her some festive ribbon to tie around the handles. Rose actually came up with something orange. Who would have thunk she'd be that invested?

Alice ties name cards to the handles, and admires her work. The baskets are quite large, and there's one heck of a lot of interesting stuff in each one. Some of it even contains artificial flavouring. Which is great. Even in their world, food and sex are inexorably linked. Alice divides up the last three similar items, seals the box, and covers each of the baskets up with a small towel.

Toddy has included a few things that are useless to vampires. Alice has _no idea_ what to do with them. She'll have to ask the others if they have a suggestion. Oh, wait, she's zoning out. Eyes clearing, she chuckles under her breath.

Yeah, life with Bella is peachy. Bless her heart.

"Hey, guys!" Alice sing-songs cheerfully. "Baskets are ready. Come and get 'em!"

The bedroom doors open, and her siblings and their mates saunter out. Bella and Rose are now clad in bath robes. The body paint is starting to wear off. Perhaps from being... sampled. Well, the couples have all day Sunday to try out Toddy's gifts. No reason to rush.

The couples congregate around Alice, waiting expectantly. But then, everyone realizes that Alice is packed to leave.

"Going so soon?" Edward asks, a little disappointed.

"Yeah, you'll be so busy you won't even miss us. We'll be back together before you know it, though," Alice smiles.

"If you say so, Titch," he says confidently.

"Life sure is different since you got married, Coricopat," she winks.

"Coricopat was a female, Tantomile," Edward says, giving vent to a long-suffering sigh.

"Fine. We'll have to be Tumblebrutus and Cassandra, then," Alice shrugs. He's staring at her, pouting. "What?"

"Hmm. I dunno if I can tolerate adding another nickname to your list," Edward says slyly. " 'Annoying Pixie' and 'Titch; just suit you so much better. You've got an awful lot of nicknames for somebody so small."

"Cad," Alice pouts, turning to the group. "I need help with something before I go," she announces.

"What is it?" Rose asks.

"Toddy put some stuff in the box that none of us can use. And you can't just hand it out to the kids at school," she says, eyes twinkling.

"What is it?" Edward wonders.

"Candy," Alice says, holding it up, and they all howl with laughter. There are six boxes of assorted milk chocolate genitalia, and six large, chocolate penises on sticks.

"Oh, I know just what to do with those," Bella declares, grinning wickedly.

"What! Send them to LaPush?" Emmett suggests.

"Hmm. If we want to provoke a war with the _Kwali_ warriors, it's the way to go. Jacob would just _love_ to receive a big chocolate dick from me. No better way to say 'suck my cock' to a bunch of irritable werewolves than to actually send them some."

Everyone snickers. Imagine Leah or Sam opening one of those!

Bella sighs. "No, I think it's time to turn the tables on my mother. Gimme. I'm Fed Ex-ing them all to Renée."

"Minx!" Edward laughs, gobsmacked.

"I've enjoyed one too many interesting conversations with her, Sweetheart. She's always so concerned about my orgasms. I think it's time to pay her back."

Edward huffs a laugh, and turns his attention back to Alice. "Give our love to the fam, yeah?"

"Of course," Alice confirms. "You guys be careful, won't you? You're getting close, Bella. You'll be okay for at least ten days, but after that, it will be time to consider going home. Keep your days organized, so you can leave quickly. And buy a pair of open airline tickets, okay?"

"Okay," Bella blinks, both eager and nervous. She and Edward look at each other a little shyly. "Faith," she mouths at him.

"Hope," he mouths back.

"Well, it's been right nice seeing you all," Jasper sighs. "But there is never a dull moment with you kids, that's for certain."

"Yeah. Couldn't have gotten through it without you, Jazz. Thank you. Really," Edward says, pulling Jasper in for a hug.

"Anytime, Brother," Jasper drawls, patting him.

"You really have to go, so soon?" Edward checks.

"Yeah. I promised Pippa I would look after Apple tomorrow night. Try to stay out of trouble, will ya? I mean, befriending Sado-Masochists? I thought you were a good judge of character." Jasper regards his brother, hand on hips.

"Pssht! I am. I'm just poor at predicting human behaviour," Edward shrugs.

Em crosses his arms. "Truer words were never spoken," he intones.

"Edward? Shut your transom," Alice orders.

"Okay, Titch."

"Bella? Borrow one of Rose's chemises tonight. And don't be afraid to ask for her help."

"Yes, Ma'am," a very confused Bella answers.

"Whatever will you do next?" Jasper wonders, shaking his head melodramatically.

"Shut my transom," Edward declares, looking at Jazz like he's thick. "Um... become a Dad?" he suggests.

"Gee whilakers," Jasper teases, ruffling Edward's hair. "Kid? You are a handful. I'm glad you're Carlisle's responsibility, and not mine."

Edward's eyes sparkle and Em snickers.

Bella pulls Jasper down for a hug and a kiss, while Edward hugs a resistant Alice. "Don't get paint on my Perrin Bruyère blouse," she squeaks.

"Aw, come on, Shorty," Em says, pulling her out of Edward's arms and hugging her twice as hard.

She squawks. "You see if I give you any news," she sniffs, hopping backward. "Oh, heck," she says, embracing Rose. "I'll let you know if there's anything good. Only because I love _you_, Rose."

"Your wife's mean to me, Jasper," Em says, making a silly, sad face.

"I wonder why?" Jasper says with an eye roll. "Bye, Evil Twin."

"See you around, Boots. Try and keep the meddling fairy in line, will ya?" Rose teases, kissing his cheek.

"Mmm," he says, looking speculatively at his mate with hooded eyes.

The good-byes affected, Alice and Jazz depart, with Hot Toddy's box tucked under Jasper's arm. They have to reach somewhere overcast by the time two and a half hours have passed. But they should be able to run a long way into the interior before the sun comes up.

After they vanish, Bedward, Bear and Honey spend a moment lost in thought. Then, they turn and look at each other.

"Well..." Edward says, tugging his hair.

"Hmm," Emmett responds, scratching his head.

"Last one to their basket's a rotten egg!" Edward crows, already in motion. The rest rush to catch up.

"Cheater!" Emmett shrills, bounding over the back of the nearest couch. There's quite nearly a vampire train wreck in the middle of the shaggy area rug. There's certainly a lot of giggling.

"I win," Bella declares, somewhere under the pile.

"Sweet," Edward growls.

Rose, on top of the pile, reaches in and liberates her basket from the bottom of the pile. "See ya Monday!" she yells, streaking for her bedroom.

"Baby," Emmett drawls, disappearing after her.

Giggling, Edward pulls Bella to her feet, and takes their basket. Smouldering, he escorts her to their room.

Inside Em and Rose's bedroom, the towel is off the basket and the contents are revealed. There's quite the lovely selection of romantic and racy things.

Rosalie gasps, and takes hold of a burnt umber roll of watered silk. It is a hand-made quilted corset, with black, hand-painted flowers on it, black laces and busk stays. She holds it up to her front, admiring it.

Emmett moans. "Babe, you are so wearing that tonight. Look at the rose. It matches," he says, pulling a fabric sweetheart rose out of the basket. " A rose for a rose," he declares.

Rose takes hold of the rose's petals, and tugs, and it unwinds into a pair of frilly-edged boy shorts. "Oh, they're beautiful, Em. Aren't they beautiful?"

"Yeah. I may have to consult Toddy the next time I shop for you," he says, surprised. To Em's surprise, his cell phone rings. Who could be calling at this hour? "Hello?" he winces. "Yeah." Em passes the cell to Rosalie. "It's Baby Bee," he says, bewildered.

"Hi Bee," Rose squeaks, admiring her gifts. "Really? You're kidding! ... Yeah, I got one, too. Not the same, of course. Great idea. I'll meet you in the sitting room. Tell Edward to stay in your room. Oh. Are there? Yeah, I'll look for those," she says, riffling through the basket and grabbing a couple of things.

Rose hangs up the phone and turns to Em, all excited. "She got a maternity corset," she squeaks. "Toddy even put a note on it to say what it was. He used to paint pictures on corsets, and has a friend who made historical reproductions for him especially. But he got bored with the collection and stored them all away."

"Toddy should have been straight," Em declares. "He knows exactly what women want."

"Toddy should market his creations to lingerie shops," Rose declares. "He'd make a mint." She hops over the bed and opens one of her drawers, liberating a pair of simple white chemises.

"What are those for?" Em wonders curiously.

"To put under the corsets. That way, we don't have to wash off the body paint before putting them on. Seeing as you might want to lick me later. Corsets can't be laundered. They shrink. They have to be sponged, and that would ruin the painting. But most corsets were never washed. Women wore a chemise or a slip under them, and it kept them pretty clean."

"So I get to lick you some more? Grrrrr," Em says, one brow raised. "Hey, where you going?" he begs, as Rose flies to the door.

"Corsets are hard to fit on, as well you know," Rose shrugs. "And Mr Victorian across the hall doesn't have a clue how to help his pregnant wife get into one. I'm gonna help Bee, and then she can tightwaist me. You stay in here, and see if there's anything in that basket for you," she smiles.

"Okay," Em says, happy to be relieved of a frustrating task.

Yeah, corsets look sexy and all, but they're the devil to put on. Once the laces are fitted properly, it's not so bad to get on again. The busk, which consists of hooks on a metal rib on one side of the front, and a set of eyes on the other, can be done up without help once the bugger's laces are adjusted.

By the time Rose makes it out of her room, Bee is already in the sitting room, looking all kinds of excited. "Look at it," she squeals. "It's just beautiful, isn't it? I can't believe Toddy gave us these. They must be just about priceless."

"Oh, Bee! It's so pretty. Let me see the design."

Bee's corset is made of the softest white kid leather, with a paisley pattern pressed into it. The flowers on it are pale silver sunflowers. There are short bones at the top, and short bones at the bottom, instead of the normal steel rods that run from top to bottom. The tails of the pink and blue and silver ribbons lacing up the back cascade in curls. They look so, so pretty. Naturally, it only secures in the back. There is no front busk.

"We'll do mine first, so you see how they work," Rose smiles, donning the chemise and boys shorts. She holds the corset around herself, and discovers that it is too tight at the hips and bust, and too loose at the waist. Therefore, she undoes the bows on the lacings. There are two: one at the top of the corset, and one at the small of the back.

"Now, the tricky part is to lace the corset so that you can actually get it on. If you're tightwaisting, which of course, you won't be doing for a while, you have to loosen parts of the lacing and leave others tighter. So, I'm going to pull the top section farther apart. See how it creates a vee? It's now cone shaped. Now, I loosen the bottom lacings. Notice how the middle of the corset stays tight? That's what you want.

"Now, I do up the busk." A few times, the hooks that have been done up spring loose when the next one is joined. Bella giggles and Rosalie rolls her eyes. Finally, all the little hooks are done, and the pretty, black busk is displayed to advantage. "Now, I need your help," Rose directs. "I'm glad you're here to help me, because Em's not patient with this. The laces are pretty strong, but you need to pull them gently, and he's broken not a few," she grunts a bit, pulling the corset into place so that her boobs are pushed up.

"Take the top lacings, Bee, and snug them up, just like if you're tying a shoe," Rose directs.

"Okay," Bella responds, interested as always in learning something new. She tugs gently on the lacings until they lie snug against Rose's back.

"Okay, now don't tie them yet. Do the bottom ones."

Bella obliges her sister.

"Now, it's time to tightwaist. Wrap the top lacings around your hands, and pull them as tight as you can."

Bella pulls them tight.

"Tighter," Rose directs.

Bee pulls some more.

"Tighter," Rose grunts.

Bee pulls as hard as she can. There's little progress. "Sorry, Rose. I'm fraying a lace, here."

"Ah, it's because you're so strong. I didn't consider that. I'll have to get Em to finish it," she shrugs. "Let's get you into yours."

"Okay," Bella agrees, eyes kindling with excitement.

Rosalie giggles. "You know, Edward is going to have one hell of a time getting you out of this," she smirks, pushing off Bee's robe. She encourages her to hold up her arms so Rose can pull on the chemise and tug the corset down over her upper body.

A groan issues from Bella's room. Edward is eavesdropping.

Yeah, like Emmett's not?

"Can't I watch, so I can help her next time?" Edward whines.

"Can't I come out, and show them how to tighten the laces?" Emmett whines.

Bee and Rose look at each other, a little shocked.

"It's not like they cover any less than a bathing suit," Emmett wheedles.

"Let us think about it," Rose calls. Pouty-sounding growls issue from both bedrooms.

"Where's your underwear?" Rose mouths. Bella bends to get it. She has French cut briefs made of white kid, plus a matching garter belt, and white stockings. Quickly, Rose helps her into it all, adjusting the length of the garters, and showing Bee how to hook the stockings in.

The garter stays for Rose's corset are different. They are attached to it, right over the center of the front. Her silk stockings are black. She can't put them on until after she is tightwaisted.

"Please let us watch," Em begs.

"Please?" Edward adds.

"Are you _perving_ on us?" Rosalie calls, mouth hanging open.

"No," Edward yelps.

"Maybe a little," Em mutters.

"Em-mett!" Edward hisses.

" 'Cause if you perv on us, we'll never let you watch again," Rose warns.

"Say 'yes', say 'yes', say 'yes', please please please?" Em whimpers.

Rose sighs.

"That's a 'yes' !" Edward crows. He and Emmett, flinging on their robes, practically trip over each other in their haste to get out to the girls.

Their body paint is decidedly the worse for wear. Em has obviously washed his face. No more skeleton man. Good thing, too. He's far too scary when he leers, even without paint. And he's leering now. But he's not the only one.

Put your tongues away, boys, or you both might end up in that chipper-shredder of Bella's.

"Any perving, and we'll forget about the whole day," Rosalie growls.

"Rose! I'd never perv on you. Ew," Edward says, nose wrinkling. "No offence." Then, he turns his attention to Bella, and stops dead, melting into goo.

"In the interest of keeping Bella decent, and Em alive, I'll do her first," Rose declares. "Get over here, Edward, so you can see."

"Okay," Edward smiles, his eyes incandescent. He sits on the couch behind the girls, eager to learn.

"This won't be too hard to do, as long as you don't tear or tangle the laces when you're trying to get it off. Bee? You need to hold the corset up under your boobs, hon'."

"Like this?" Bella asks, eyelids fluttering shyly.

Emmett clears his throat and looks away.

"Uh huh," Rose murmurs. There's a short busk at the top of the back, approximately the width of a bra. She does it up, and then cinches the laces in the back until they're snug. "Don't tightwaist when you're pregnant, Bee. It's not healthy."

"Okay."

In moments, the back is all done up. But the front puckers loosely under Ren. "Now, see, Edward? There are laces here on the sides, under the belly," Rose indicates.

"Uh-huh," Edward drools. The boy is taking a brain vacation.

Just as well, because he'll never notice if Em pervs on Bella.

"Pay attention," Rose growls, snapping her fingers under his nose. "You want to be able to get her out of it later."

"Uh-huh," Edward drools. What a goober.

"Hey," Bella says, surprised. "That feels really good."

_Really? Really good? Really? _Her husband thinks, all perky.

"It takes the weight off my back," Bella declares. "I didn't realize how heavy Ren was, but my back feels a lot better."

"That's why women wore them," Rose tells her. "Not for appearance, but because they give good support. Some women still wear them, although in most cases I think they are instructed to exercise their muscles instead."

"Cool," Bella nods.

"Think you can do this next time?" Rose asks Edward narrowly. His eyes are still locked on Bella's-.

"Uh-huh," he drools.

"Okay. Em, come show them how to tightwaist," Rose directs.

"We really should have a bedpost," Em replies.

"Okay, we'll use Bella and Edward's," Rose shrugs. She gets up, and she and Em start for the bedroom.

"Uh, nope. Not right now," Edward protests, coming out of his stupor. He blocks the path to the hall. In the name of keeping things private, nobody's getting in there but him and Bella. There are a lot of ... _unusual_ things set out on the bed.

"Fine. We'll just do it looser than usual," Rose says, eyes rolling. "Come and watch Em, Edward."

Emmett winds the laces gently around his hands, and tugs firmly. "My sisters used to put one of their feet in the other one's back," he says.

"Your sisters wore corsets?" Bella asks, confused. They still wore corsets in 1930?"

"Most of them weren't like this. They weren't fancy or complicated. But they had to wear something to keep them ... in _place_, darling," Emmett smirks.

"Oh," Bella blushes.

Em continues to tug on the laces until Rose starts to bulge out of the ends. "Good enough, Honey?" he asks.

"Let Edward have a little try," Rose directs. "Edward? Don't break my laces."

"Yes Ma'am," he says. He copies Em.

"That's tight enough," Rose says weakly. "Any tighter and I won't be able to breathe."

"Bet vampires can cinch those a lot tighter than other people," Bella says, staring at Rose's now miniscule waist.

"We can, but it's not pleasant. You can't breathe well, and everything is wadded up inside. Makes it hard to feed."

"Maria still corsets herself, apparently," Em says.

"Maria _would_. She's vain," Edward states, replaying Jasper's memories in his head.

"Why don't the Denalis corset themselves, then?" Bella wonders.

"They do for certain ... things," Edward grimaces. "But they don't want to stick out by doing it every day. They spend time with humans, obviously, who wouldn't understand it."

"Time to tie up my laces," Rose reminds them.

Emmett picks up the top laces, and ties a simple knot and bow. The laces hang down prettily. Then, he repeats the gesture at Rose's waist, and runs his finger down her spine.

"Thanks, Em," Rose smiles.

"Hubba hubba, Baby," Em growls.

"We all done here?" Edward asks, chomping at the bit.

"Won't you dance for us a little first?" Em begs the girls.

The other three gape at him, repulsed.

"What?" he defends himself. "The human girls do it all the time. And you girls had fun, getting the guys all hot and bothered at our graduation party." Mind you, that was just to flirt with their mates.

Em hasn't seen live girl on girl sex since the French succubi came to his fifth bachelor party. Not that Edward stuck around once he caught wind of Em's plans. "I'm not asking you to go down on each other or anything. Just-"

That totally came out wrong.

"Emmett? I _sincerely_ recommend that you do not complete that thought," Edward advises. "Keep it above the waist. Oh, and out of your brain."

Em wisely does as he's told. Even if Edward is three inches shorter than he is. Because if Bella finds out what he's thinking, he probably will really end up in the chipper-shredder.

Emmett peeps at Edward shyly. Why the hell isn't Edward perving? Who doesn't like girl on girl?

"Because, Emmett, you have shown me far, far too many ... colourful images over the years. If you two do so much at bat your eyelashes at each other, all I want to do is regurgitate dinner all over you. You totally squick me out."

Does that mean he might be willing to-?

"Em-mett!" Edward groans, exasperated. "Don't even-" He huffs. "Rose?"

"Yeah. We're done here. Go get her, Tiger. See you tomorrow," Rose smirks, eyes rolling. Bella shakes her head in disbelief, and hurries down the hall. Edward practically skips after his wife.

Rose regards her husband a tad sternly. Shame they can't syphon off Em's excess testosterone and give it to somebody who needs it. Like... Felix's boyfriend, Arduino. "Go wait for me, Em, while I finish getting dressed."

Em looks at her sheepishly. Is he in trouble? Rosie said 'no perving'. He just can't seem to help appreciating the female form, even though he has no interest in touching anybody but his wife. Not that he'd want to see-

Ew, no. Baby Bee's his sister for crying out loud.

"Go, be a good boy, before I change my mind and take this thing off," Rose says bossily, waving her mate away.

"Yes Ma'am!" he says with alacrity. "Don't be too long, Baby, or I'm gonna explode."

Rose slips on her stockings and affixes them to her stays, and steps into impossibly high black patent heels. She sashays back to her room, ignoring the soft sounds emanating from behind Bedward's door. Just figures the Bluenose would like repressive feminine clothing.

Like Rose doesn't?"

Maybe she should get Bella some Spectator boots. And a parasol.

Yeah, okay.

Big Bear is lounging naked on their bed, butt-deep in fake fur blankets, stroking his huge, painted cock. He's put out the lights, and placed a few tiny candles in strategic locations.

"I thought I told you to get dressed," Rose frowns.

"Mmm. I'm wearing everything I need to be around you," he flirts, eyes hooded.

"So what's in the basket?" Rose asks eagerly, wondering if there will be something that inspires a game.

"You might _better_ ask what is _not_ in the basket," he smirks.

"And what might _not_ be in the basket, Em?" Rosalie smoulders.

In response, Em holds up some black, leather, elbow-length gloves and a black pussycat mask. Rose puts them on, and Em's growl resonates subliminally through his chest. Then, he passes her a black crop with an end the shape of a shoehorn, and a pair of furry black cuffs.

"Nothing new?" Rose asks. She's not disappointed. The corset and accessories are present enough.

"Well, you know, Baby, there's not a lot we haven't tried. But I would like to use these," he drawls, holding something up. "After I lick you clean of that paint."

Rose's eyes darken to inky blackness, flecked with silver.

Yeah, just because Em told Toddy's friend that he likes Rose pure, doesn't mean he told him the truth. The truth is, he just didn't want her to be in the presence of live pervy people doing their thing. Things. Ahem. What he's willing to do with her behind closed doors is totally different. He'd be willing to try anything she wants. And Rosalie Cullen has a good imagination.

"Sixty-nine!" she orders, leaping on him and taking his cracked-paint cock deep in her throat. Waggling her pussy, she smiles triumphantly as he lowers her shorts, takes her ass in his hands, and groans with longing. He will always want her, and only her. It doesn't matter if he looks at other women, or at his porn, because she is secure in the knowledge that nothing in his experience can possibly compare to the way she makes him feel.

Em pulls down her ass onto his face, and she growls joyfully. He belongs to her, as she is his. What could be better than an eternity of that? And a few new toys and games are the icing on the cake.

Emmett swipes his tongue over swollen flesh, greedy for the combined taste of Rosalie and brandy-flavoured paint. Trust Bella to paint Rose with something Em would really like. Rosalie whimpers and trembles, her mouth suctioning on dreamy chocolate cock. Em spreads her open, and pushes his tongue as deeply inside her as he can. Tongue thrusting, he moans as she teacups his balls, licking every square inch of him back to silvery paleness.

They ravish each other, panting, eradicating every bit of paint, and Rosalie mewls, shuddering, as Em's tongue laves her thoroughly. They are frenzied. Overstimulated. Consumed with need. It's a dance of love and trust.

"Put them in me," she gasps, and resumes her ministrations to his foreskin, which massages his shaft and glans in indescribable ways.

"You sure, Baby?" he husks. "You've never tried this many."

"Just let's try it. If it's too much, I'll tell you. I swear," she gasps, angling her ass at his face.

"Okay," Emmett says, reaching into the basket.

He opens a bottle of pink liquid, and drizzles it on Rosalie's sweet ass. He can't resist tasting it, and is pleasantly surprised. Strawberry. Quite nice. No wonder Edward likes it.

"Just relax, Honey," he says, massaging her puckering rosette. Yes, roses are for him. All the kinds she can offer. He loves everything about her.

He pushes the iridescent, hot pink bead in, and she grunts, so feminine and free. When the second goes in, she bucks away from him, releasing his cock from her mouth lest she do him any harm. It thwacks against her chest as she releases it, and Emmett realizes that her breasts have sprung free of the corset. They graze his stomach, the soft pink nipples so right and so hot and only for him. Carefully, he continues to push in the beads until only the loop on the end remains outside her body.

"Oh, Baby. They're all in. You took them all," he moans, flicking his tongue against her pussy and gently sucking at her clit.

"I have twelve beads in me?" she asks, brow raised.

"Unh, yeah," he says around her sex, electricity surging through his cock. Every bit of his skin is hyper-aware, icy-cold waves flickering between them.

"Are you proud of me, Emmett?" she asks, disarmingly innocent.

"Never doubt that, my love. I am so, so proud of you," he declares, kissing her glutes. "How are those beads, darling?"

"Fuck, they're rubbing right on my gee," she says, eyes rolling back. She is close. Every molecule of his being recognizes it. Shifting, he takes a finger and slides it into her slick pussy, and pushes against her bundle of nerves. Rosalie makes a noise somewhere between a shriek and a moan, and arches.

"Cum for me, Rose," Em begs, feeling his own build-up to climax.

"Yes! Oh, Em, yes! I love you," she gasps, and he is drowned in her liquids, consumed as she grinds herself against his torso, impaled on his hand. Seeing her ecstasy, he releases, shooting high into the air. Five times, six, the evidence of his bliss exits his body, while the cold bubble of light between them coalesces, and makes them shiver with pleasure.

But the joy of being vampires is that they never tire. Neither one is finished.

Emmett swabs up the evidence with one of his blankets, before the mess can spoil his wife's lovely garments, and gets up. He looks at his incomparably beautiful woman, flushed and swollen with satisfaction. Faster than the human eye can follow, he pushes her up against his bedroom door, and slams an already-alert cock into her welcoming folds. It is desperation and fulfilment. Yearning and completion. Eyes open and radiating love, they move together, rough and yet sweet, secure in the rightness and thorough solidity of their relationship.

She watches in adoration as his jaw clenches, and his back arches, and counts his muscles as they ripple like shallow water over stones. She urges him on, face alight, and he stares into her eyes and pours himself into her with a guttural growl that goes on and on into forever.

At last, they sigh, breathing in the sweetness of each other, and enfolded in his arms, Emmett lowers his soulmate to her feet, delivering light kisses to every part of her face, and then presses his rough cheek to her smooth one. He is burning maple, vanilla and cinnamon to her more ethereal incense, sweet-grass and lemon. They are opposites in almost every way. Yet together, they are beautiful.

"Well, that feels better," she smirks, hands twined around the back of his neck, body conforming to his perfectly. Her eyes are golden. Contented.

He huffs a laugh. "Sorry, Baby, but I have a problem."

She pulls back, surprised and a little worried. She notices his eyes are still black. Hungry. In a good way. Her man huffs again, gently, and presses a kiss against her mouth.

He pulls back, stroking the hair that lies along the back of her neck. "I seem to have something from Toddy stuck up my ass," he drawls, eyes glittering.

Rosalie laughs, covering her mouth with delighted fingers.

Once, she had a friend named Vera.

They never had fun laughing. They had a lovely friendship, but they didn't kid around together.

Everyone in Rosalie's human life was of a serious disposition. She took herself seriously. She conformed to her image, just to please others.

But laughter? Jokes? Whimsey? There was none. Her world was lukewarm.

There was nobody to laugh with. Until Em.

Wrestling her way around his middle, she bends double to get a good look at his ass. Protruding from it is a little blue ring on a white string. She stifles a snort, and frowns melodramatically. "I seem to have a similar problem," she growls, eyes dancing with humour.

"Do you now?" her Big Bear drawls, lips curling lazily into a smile.

"What do you suppose we should do about it?" she asks, trying to look solemn around lips that twitch upward against her will.

"I think I need somebody to order me to take it out. I'm a very, very naughty boy to have put it there," he admits.

"Oh, I don't know. I think I'm the naughty one," she chuckles. "Perhaps I would enjoy ordering you around. But... perhaps you need some discipline," she flirts.

"Baby? You'll have to catch me first," he growls, backing away from her and heading for the window. With a coy, ridiculous look at her, he eases the window up, and wiggles his bare butt out of it. She is so surprised, she just looks at the empty frame, where his ass used to be, open-mouthed.

There's no question as to which way Emmett has gone, because he has managed to step on the tail of the neighbour's cat. It yowls angrily. Poor thing.

With a little squeak of laughter, Rosalie grabs the mask, the cuffs, and the crop, and hurries after her mate. The hunt is on, and she has every confidence that she will win.

After all, her husband is very motivated to lose.

**Rose's corset: lovesickcorrectiveapparel(dot)com/corset/historical/13_1907_2(dot)html**

**Bella's corset: antiquecorsetgallery(dot)com/article(dot)php?article=14**

**Alice's corset: lovesickcorrectiveapparel(dot)com/corset/historical/25_khakigrey1(dot)html**


	6. Chapter 6: Dominance

**Chapter 6: Dominance**

**Rated M for A crack-a-licious romp with Lissy and Jazz. It amuses me to mess with them. Need I give the hygiene reminder _again_? No. **

**WARNING: Edward's experience of child abuse is revealed at the beginning of this section. There are some subjects that will only fit in my canon in certain spots, and Jasper's opinion is one of them. If this subject upsets you, you can skip down to the second section of story, that takes place on Tuesday, November 1st. The dates, as always, are in bold.**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental. **

**The opinions of the author do not necessarily coincide with those of her characters. **

**If you want more Alice and Jasper, please try 'The Brandons'.**

**You know I'm sitting up late, waiting for your review. You know you want to gimme some love.**

**Only one more chapter after this: Our newly-weds. Bedward. What's not to love?**

_**Monday, October 31st, 2005:**_

"He's going to be alright," Alice affirms, worrying about her brother anyway . They walk out of the end of the Holland Tunnel, admiring the countless twinkling lights of Manhattan. They will fly out of La Guardia at 08:00, and get home in time for Jazz to look after Apple.

"Yes, Lis. He's okay. I promise," Jasper answers, patient with his wife as always.

"Are all fathers so harsh?" she wonders, reflecting on what her recently-found sister Cynthia told her about their own father.

Jasper huffs a laugh. "You know it's not true, Jelli. Look at Carlisle. He's never been intolerant of our weaknesses. No matter what we've done, he loves us all unconditionally. Barely even yells. We _really_ have to provoke him before he loses his temper, and he tends to get quiet when he's angry, not aggressive."

"But human fathers?" Alice frets.

"Charlie i'n't like that," Jazz reminds her. "Or Billy. Harry Clearwater wasn't either."

"Charlie was going to shoot Edward once," Alice argues.

"Charlie wouldn't have _really_ hurt him, Jelli, even if it were physically possible. He's a lawman, through and through. A man dedicated to the protection of others. He despises abusers. He wanted to protect Bella, and he felt he had failed. He was just incredibly frustrated and didn't know how to handle it, so he blustered at Edward like a great ape. He had a lot of remorse after, and he fixed everything up with Edward and Bella. Sobered him up a lot. Made him stop acting so childish. Even when he found out the _truth_, and discovered they had been lying to him for nearly two years, he forgave them and he accepted Edward.

"Admittedly, your father, by sending you away, and Edward's father, by giving him the beating, were both guilty of taking out their frustration on kids. Unlike Charlie, they loved the kids they hurt. They were both frightened men. Some men get aggressive with people when they don't know what to do. Your father made you feel you were a burden, so you left. Edward's father found something he was doing unacceptable, and he didn't know how to stop him, so he tried to beat him out of doing it. Both fathers were obviously immature, and unlike Charlie, they died without getting the chance to make amends."

They walk on, arm-in-arm, lost in thought.

"My father regretted saying the things that made me run away," Alice murmurs. "Cynthia said so."

"I'm willing to bet Edward's father regretted what he did, too. Men used to hit their sons with belts. I'm sure my own father struck me, either with a belt or a switch, and I know Em's did. It's just how families used to discipline. But Edward Sr had a regrettable loss of temper. Edward says he was a good man. I bet he was sorry. He just never had the chance to apologize and tell Edward he loved him."

"Jazz? What kind of man -having the reputation for decency- flays the flesh from his son's body with a belt buckle?" Jelli asks sadly.

" A man short of communication skills, who's desperate to make his boy obey."

"But... what could Edward have done to make him so angry? Carlisle always said Edward was such a lovely boy. A sweet, good person," Alice winces. "You can't possibly think he did anything to deserve a beating that needed stitches."

Jasper stops walking, sighing. His longish, blond hair blows forward over his eyes. He hesitates.

"What! What is it?" Alice begs. "You know what happened? Did Carlisle tell you?"

"Carlisle doesn't know what provoked it, or else Edward would know," Jasper says. "Whatever made Edward's father beat him is long since lost, Jelli. Edward doesn't want to remember. And that's likely for the best. You and I both know that a person's nature carries over past the change. Edward doesn't have a mean bone in his body, and that means he was even ... nicer as a human."

"Then why?" Alice pleads. "Why did he get beaten? I mean, if I had a son, and I caught him murdering or raping someone, or beating up a little kid, I might be tempted to beat him. But Edward? We both know he'd never have done anything wicked like that."

"He was Victorian," Jasper says darkly.

Alice turns shocked, black eyes on her husband. "You suspect something."

"Anything I say is only speculation," Jasper says, shaking it off and starting to walk again. "It's wrong to gossip about this. And I could very well be wrong." Alice puts a hand on his arm.

"I won't ever think about it around him," she promises. "You know I won't."

"It will open a can of worms if you do," her mate warns. "And it might hurt him badly. It might bring out guilt, if I'm right. Or it might make him sad, knowing that in these modern times, most fathers ..."

"Most fathers would..." Alice prompts.

"Laugh. Most fathers would laugh, and tease their sons," Jasper frowns, head dropped in consternation.

"Okay. I really, really just have to understand this. It's not idle curiosity, I want to... Edward is my brother," Alice declares.

"I know that, Jelli. But Edward doesn't want or need help with this. It's a long time ago, and he has an entirely different life now."

"Tell me what you think happened. Please, Jazzy?" Alice whispers, her lip trembling.

Jasper sighs deeply. His lips form a thin line. "It stays between us, under the sanctity of our bond."

"Yes, sir," Alice promises solemnly. It's a promise she will keep. Forever.

"Before Edward met Bella, there were an awful lot of gaps in his memory. He couldn't remember much about his parents, or his half-siblings, or his friends."

"Yeah, I know. Bella's brought a lot out, just by reminding him of things in his life, and asking him questions. But what's that got to do with anything?" Alice asks, confused.

"There's one item he owned, of which he has an awfully strong memory. Unusually clear. A fixation, almost," Jazz states. " Do you know what that thing is?"

Alice thinks for a few minutes. "I don't know what you're getting at, Jasper. His sheet music, maybe? His piano? Please just enlighten me."

"His calendar, Jelli."

"His calendar? What about it, Jazz?" Alice asks, not _Seeing_.

"His girlie calendar, Lissy. The one he always used to joke about hiding from his parents."

"Miss October, 1918," Alice muses.

"Miss October, 1918. Now, don't you think it's odd that he remembers that photograph so clearly, when he couldn't remember his mother's face as it looked in her maturity, even though he still has his parents' wedding picture?"

"That is odd," Alice frowns. She stops again, and her eyes fly to Jasper's. "No! You don't think!" she protests. Her eyes narrow. "You do."

Jasper thrusts his hands in his pockets unhappily. "He was seventeen years old, Jelli. He remembers trying to get away from his father's belt, while he was lying on his bed half-dressed. So, what if his father caught him?"

"But..." Jelli says softly. "That's not... That's an atrocious reason to hit-"

"His culture was repressive, Lis."

Alice swallows her nausea. "So you think he was beaten with a belt buckle for..."

"Well, it makes sense. Explains why he was more puritanical than Carlisle. So determined to be chaste until he got married."

"It serves him right," Alice growls furiously, surprising Jasper.

"Say what?" he gapes.

"Edward's father. He beat him for _that_, and Edward had to go and get stitches, and at the doctor's office he caught the influenza. And then, he infected his parents. And they all died, Jasper. So Edward Sr got his just reward. He beat his son for _nothing_, and died for it."

"So you think Edward and his mother were collateral damage, because God intended to kill Edward Sr?" he asks coolly.

"Oh, God wouldn't do that!" Alice protests.

"So I'm told. If I'm right, it's a tragedy in the purest sense, but Carlisle and Edward always claim God is love. So be careful what you say. Casting blame is useless at this point, anyhow. Lis, you be _sure_ you realize that I'm only guessing. And don't you ever think about it around Edward. If it ends up I'm right, he'll think he's responsible for killing his parents."

"But-"

Jasper cuts her off. "You know how he is, Lis. He always takes the blame, even when things aren't his fault."

"You're right," Alice murmurs. "I can _See_ that if he were to remember due to someone else's prompting, the fallout would be awful. If he ever remembers on his own, I get the feeling he would cope better, but it doesn't _Look_ like he'll ever remember. I think you're right, Jazz. I just hate to think..."

"Me, too."

"Your culture wasn't like that," she checks, peeking at him.

"Not insofar as I can recall," he shrugs. "And really, I don't remember, Lis. I only remember what happened... after."

Alice raises a subject that she has thought about privately, but never discussed with her mate. "You... You're like Edward, aren't you Jazz? You use pleasure submission to replace experiences that were painful. Like flipping a coin."

He nods curtly. "I understand Edward."

"Was it," she wonders, "was it always like that, with Maria? Dominating Subs? Do all Trads train their newborns ... like that?"

"Tarnation, Lissy. No. Mostly, it's like army life. Regulation, training, and discipline. Maria, well... as you know, she's quite the sadist. Doe'n't surprise me a whit she's allied herself with Caius, now. Maria's newborns... well, Jelli, I'd never describe them as Subs. They were Slaves. As we've discussed, I was her Slave, even if I never wore a collar for her. She gave me the _illusion_ of power. You know that. And I very quickly tired of it. But yes, for a long time, I dominated and manipulated her army."

"So, now, you never want to be the Dom again?" she asks rhetorically.

"Probably not, love. I'm much happier being Edward's general than I'd be running a coven. I didn't like being the Major. I still don't. I can't imagine wanting to be that person anymore."

"So... you'll never dominate me?" Alice asks, peeping at him.

Jasper stops dead in his tracks. "Lissy, I ... I could never hurt you."

"I didn't say I wanted to be hurt, dearest," she says, eyes rolling.

Jasper gapes. "Just what are you asking?"

"I," Alice hesitates, rocking from foot to foot. "I... dunno. Maybe, you could ..."

"Well?" he demands, a little hotly.

She shuts her eyes tightly, and spits it out at top vampire speed. "Tie me up and torture me with a feather and lick every bit of my body and then-"

Alice is already beaming, while Jasper lets out a huge sigh of relief. "Jehoshaphat! I was plum scared you were gonna ask if you could be my Pony."

"Can I?" she asks eagerly.

"Mary Alice!" he yelps.

"Oh, Jazzy! You could chase me around with a whip. And then catch me, and give me some little love taps on the butt, and then fuck me up the-"

"Jelli!" he wails. "I am _not_ going to hit you, whether it's with-"

"Ooh, yes, you are," she beams triumphantly.

"Great horned lizards," he says, smacking his hand down on top of his head. "And kindly watch your language."

"And then, you're finally going to take my anal virginity," she squees smugly.

"Heaven's to Betsy! Alice Hale! You are scaring the liver out of me."

"Come on, Jasper. You know you want to," she says, batting her eyelashes at him.

"I could hurt you," he snaps, lips thin and white.

"You could never hurt me," she objects. "And I've already _Seen_ that you don't. I've been _Seeing_ for a long time that you won't hurt me, Jasper. You need to accord me the same kind of respect you accord Bella."

"Pardon me?" he gawps in utter disbelief.

Alice harrumphs. "I am being told 'no' when I ask to expand our sexual boundaries, and when Bella and Edward try something new, you praise her for getting him to expand theirs. It's not nice to have a double standard, Jasper Whitlock Hale."

"But-"

"But nothing. You've been training my ass for more than two solid months. Soldier up!"

Jasper Hale is looking decidedly the worse for wear, standing smack-dab in the middle of Times Square.

"Don't you dare pass out on me!" Alice snaps. "It will garner entirely too much attention."

Her husband blows out a breath, trying hard to hold onto his sanity. "Exactly when do you _See_ this happening?" he asks hollowly.

"Well, not right now," she shrugs. "Our plane leaves in an hour, after all."

"Mm," her mate nods, still trying to reassemble his thoughts into something coherent. _Jelli. Jelli flying from tree to tree in the Olympic Forest, while he chases her with a crop and bridle. Jelli's pretty caboose. Jelli bent over, taking him to the hilt, mewling for him while he gives her a little tap on her pert-_

Maybe this idea has merit after all.

"Thank you, Jasper," Alice sing-songs, taking his arm.

Now all they have to do is get through Airport Security with Toddy's box without embarrassing themselves.

**o~o~0~o~o**

_**Tuesday, November 1st, 2005:**_

Jasper sits on the porch swing, reading his morning paper as he scratches behind the ear of his purring black cat, Lucky. It's a beautiful day. An air of serenity surrounds him. He can hear Esme singing Cole Porter in the kitchen. Perfect. Then, something intrudes upon his senses, making things more perfect than perfect.

All he can see over the top of his paper is something very odd that makes him chuckle inwardly, but he smelled his mate coming, and there's no mistaking her mood: Playful, and weighted with desire. He lowers his paper inch by inch, drinking in everything about the petite form in front of him, and growls softly in admiration and amusement.

Jasper sets his paper aside, and shoos the young tomcat off his knee. "Well, good morning, Mrs Hale."

"Mr Hale," she drawls, fluttering her eyelashes.

"You are looking mighty fine this morning Ma'am," he grins, shifting a little on the swing to make his jeans more comfortable.

His wife is wearing a black leather helmet that straps under her little pointed chin. Attached to the hat are a large pair of horse ears, and there's a little fringed mane sticking up at the top. Where in the Sam Hill did she get it?

One guess.

"I s'pose I have Toddy to thank for this?" he smirks.

"Yes, sir," she says, running a flirty finger down his chest.

Alice has never worn a corset before, that she can remember. She has never _Seen_ Jasper responding positively to one. There are too many old memories that surface in connection with females who once wore them. But this is not like one he's ever seen before.

It's a soft, misty khaki, smooth cotton, with darker, greyish, grosgrain insets that look like military stripes, and the shape is neat and trim. Painted on it, in a slightly darker grey, are a few whimsical dandelion puffs. The cotton-knit bikini bottoms, that tie at the hips in cute little bows, match perfectly. The outfit makes Alice's skin look creamy and soft.

Instead of garters, she wears army-green suede boots that hug her legs all the way up to mid-thigh. They are cinched tight at the top with matching suede drawstrings, that cascade down the outside of her legs, like the falls of a whip.

The items Jelli is holding don't help that jeans situation that's plaguing her husband. Jasper may just bust his buttons.

"I take it that I am about to share an adventure with you, Ma'am," he growls, eyes glinting wickedly.

"If you like," Jelli says, producing a crop and a bit-bridle from behind her back. She taps her foot like a horse paws the ground.

"I like," he drawls, his eyes velvety black.

"Close your eyes, Mr Hale," she says flirtatiously.

Sighing, her husband folds his arms and legs together, and complies. There is a rush of air, and the slap of suede on suede, and her scent is momentarily stronger. Then, it abates.

A human man would count to ten and yell 'ready or not', but where would be the fun in that for an apex predator? Jasper sits, eyes closed, and holds his breath. He sits for several minutes, concocting fantastical ideas.

Something cold and wet touches his cheek: a snowflake. He tips his head back, and another tiny, cold piece of God's lace touches his lip. He licks it off with satisfaction. He likes the snow. It's something relatively new to his experience, and it reminds him that life is not static.

The front door opens, and Lucky rouses himself, with a meow, and runs into the house like he owns it. Jasper drops his hands in his tented lap, nonchalantly lacing his fingers together.

"Smart kitty. Go eat your breakfast. Get warm," Esme croons, and comes to stand next to Jasper.

"Pretty, isn't it?" she asks, scenting the damp air.

"Yes'm. It's right nice," Jasper smiles, opening his eyes. The flakes are large and fluffy, and descend with soft thuds to kiss the ground. It's coming down fast, although it mostly melts as it hits. Belatedly, he realizes that Alice has left the crop and bridle beside him, on the swing seat. How mortifying.

Not that Esme and Carlisle don't do things that are a lot worse.

"Going out for a while, huh?" Esme smirks.

Jasper sighs, lips twitching up at the corners. "Yes'm."

The only mother he can remember ruffles his hair. "Have a lovely day, kiddo," she says, letting him be, and he swallows a laugh, but radiates contentment. Yes, their family dynamics are weird, for certain. His 'mother-in-law' is a good 66 years younger than he is.

Esme goes back inside, and the smell of freshly-baked chocolate fudge muffins drifts out of the kitchen. Seth, Leah and Jacob must be on their way over. Time to clear out.

Jasper takes up the crop and bridle, and turns them over thoughtfully in his hands. Is he ready for this?

Sighing, he stands, and stretches his hands high above his head, feeling the tickle of the virgin snow with enjoyment. Then, he takes off his studded collar and leaves it on the swing, and collects his props. "Ready or not, here I come," he murmurs, and tastes the air.

His wife's alluring scent has grown faint already, thanks to the snow. Walking down the drive, he searches for her, crop in one hand, bridle in the other.

North-west, he decides, the promise of her ardour going straight to his loins. Now, if he were a bratty little fairy on a mission, where would he go on a cold day? Not that the cold bothers vampires, but they do _like_ to be warm...

Perhaps later, he'll set them a fire in the living room's fireplace. He and Jelli can cuddle on the furry rug that lies in front of the hearth, and discuss the new novel she's been reading.

Jasper Hale rockets North like a shot, stopping only twice to check his bearings. Jellicle has left him a merry trail, that winds in and back upon itself over and over. But he knows her too well. Knows where she is headed, likely better than she does.

The rainforest grows dark, and hushed, comforting as a womb. He treads the mossy earth softly. Reverently.

Twenty minutes later, he hears his zany wife singing cheerfully to herself. Betty Boop, 1928. A lot of men wouldn't be able to put up with her brand of crazy, but he adores it when she is silly.

"_I wanna be loved by you_

_By you, and nobody else but you (bump, bum)_

_I wanna be loved by you alone_

_Boop boop be do!_

_I wanna be kissed by you_

_By you, and nobody else but you (bump, bum)_

_I wanna be kissed by you alone"_

She is 50 feet up a Sitka spruce, hands on her thighs and ankles pressed together, dancing for him. She surely does know how to make use of her hips and derriere.

" _'Boop boop be do!' _Why hello, cowboy. I thought perhaps you weren't coming," she lilts, all Mississippi-New Orleans, leaning on the tree trunk and batting her eyelashes at him.

Jasper lowers his eyes bashfully, and chuckles. "I was delayed by Mother," he informs her. "She was right amused by these objects you left me unwittingly holding."

Jelli bends over backward until her Cheshire Cat grin presents to him upside down. "I have to keep you on your toes," she giggles, standing on her hands. Completing her super-slow round-off, she rests, looking back at Jasper over her shoulder, and waggles that tight little behind at him. Jehoshaphat! A long, swishy, black leather tail is pinned to her backside. And then, she's gone into the trees. All that remains is her ringing laughter.

"Watch out, Missy!" Jasper growls. "I am coming to tame you, you naughty ponygirl."

A squee'd neigh is his only response. She doesn't have to ask him twice.

Alice dances through the trees like an oversized Douglas squirrel, and Jasper shadows her on the ground silently, needing nothing but her laughter to keep him on her trail. The race is pointless, really, since she can _See_ him coming, and he can smell her going, but it's fun, and indulges his predatory urges.

Strategically, Jasper circles North-west, and bides his time. After a few minutes, he hears Jellicle pouncing from tree to tree, knocking the rustling dry leaves to earth. And it doesn't matter that they almost always know where the other one is. They enjoy the game anyhow.

He pounces, and she squeaks like a mouse under a cat's paw, and turns her playful, pout-y countenance upon him. The ears are too funny.

"Some chase! You hardly even tried," he pouts, grinding his erection against her hip.

"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm having a hard time running," Alice admits, rolling her eyes.

He draws back, suddenly terrified. Whatever is wrong? Is his mate injured?

Alice reaches behind herself, and fidgets. He watches her, not comprehending. She draws something from behind her back with a _squelch_, displays it, pinched between her thumb and forefinger, and lets it fall to earth.

Jasper Hale kills himself laughing.

It's a butt plug, and it's definitely bigger around than his... you know.

"Jehoshaphat! Mary Alice Brandon Whitlock Cullen Hale! You are a bad girl!" he chokes, long-limbs knotted up in kinks.

"Think you're gonna punish me?" she mocks.

"Oh, most definitely," he says, trying, and failing, to keep a straight face.

A squeaking pixie suddenly finds herself facing away from her husband, wearing a fetish bridle. His cupped hand comes down on her butt cheek with a _thwap_. It doesn't hurt. She quivers with shock and excitement.

The equestrian pushes down gently on her neck as he picks up the reins. "So, you're into bestiality all of a sudden?" he teases.

"Nay," his wife yelps, turning her head rapidly from side-to-side. It has nothing to do with that. It has everything to do with being dominated by a manly rider.

Jasper laughs, delighted. "You slay me, Lissy," he declares. "There is no way on earth that I am going to ride you, understand? I don't care what Hot Toddy's fetishists are doing. Putting a big galoot like me on a dainty little back like yours would just be ungentlemanly."

"_Prrrrpt_!" she blows him a horsey raspberry, wiggling her butt. With a laugh, he smacks it again. "Bad horsey," he grins.

Lis pretends to cringe. "Nay," she says, shaking her head energetically again.

Jasper 'stills' her, and walks around her right side, stopping in front of her head. He reaches for the bit that dangles from the bridle, and carefully places it between her teeth, playfully ruffling the fringe of her 'mane'. "We may have to play this game more often," he teases. "I declare, it's the quietest I've ever seen you."

His pony harrumphs, sticking her pert little nose in the air. He walks back down her right side, whacking her butt as he passes. She grunts, and growls her pleasure.

"Whatever am I going to do with you?" he sighs.

Suddenly, he picks her up around the middle, hurtles to the far-distant ground, arranges her on all-fours, and straddles her. "Nice horsey," he grins. His mount writhes with pleasure. Jasper dismounts. "I do believe you need training, Beauty," he sighs, mockingly.

Jasper hauls his wife to her feet and pulls her hands behind her. Reaching in his pocket, he pulls out a black rubber cock ring, and stretches it to imprison her wrists.

"Your coat needs care," he frowns. "I'll have to groom you and rub you down after our ride."

"Yea!" Alice says around the bit.

Jasper takes up the reins, and brings the crop down on his wife's backside. It doesn't hurt, but it still surprises her a little. "Gee!" he growls.

She stands still, uncertain as to what she is supposed to do.

"Gee!" he barks firmly, slapping her behind. Oh, she's supposed to trot. Right.

Alice prances forward on the carpeted forest floor, her bound hands folded neatly in the small of her back.

"Haw," Jasper says, tugging a little to the left, and Alice veers to that direction. He allows the reins to straighten, and they flit rapidly across the last mile separating them from their destination. Every once in a while, he gives his pony a little tap with the crop. By the time they reach it, they are both ready to collapse with laughter, and, indeed, that is what they do.

"Whoa!" Jasper orders his wife curtly. The hot spring bubbles merrily as the couple lies, chuckling, on the stone, cold ground next to it.

Jasper pulls the ring off his wife's wrists, and she moves her hands under her so that she is lying mostly on her chest and hip. He pulls her up to her knees, and tugs her bikini strings undone. Affectionately, he runs soothing hands over her backside, for many minutes, until she is purring, and massages the outside of her rectum with experienced fingers. He continues this until there is no hint of tension in her flesh.

He removes his jeans. Boxers or briefs? Oh no, not Jasper. Commando.

Alice Hale is one smart cookie. She has annihilated his inhibitions with humour. Must be nice to know how your mate is going to react to your pervy advances! Wriggling a little, she digs a small object out of her cleavage and passes it to him, over her back. Then she waits, eyes huge with anticipation.

"Well, well," he sighs, looking at the nice, warm packet of lube. "My pony knows just what to pack for the ride."

"Yea," she whinnies, peeking shyly at him.

"Alright, Missy," he agrees softly, and tears the packet open with his sharp teeth.

Her eyes morph to black as his thumb slides _inside_. He works his thumb in a circle, patiently pulling her sphincter loose. She's not very tight to begin with. Lis has never feared him. Not from the first day. It is both encouraging and humbling. He takes his time. Then, he takes more time. One impatient mistake could ruin the experience for her forever.

He drizzles lube onto his length, careful not to rub it so much that it grows dry again, and positions himself carefully at his beloved's entrance, while holding her carefully around the middle with his left arm.

"You might want to bear down a little," he advises, and oh-so-slowly, pushes in his head.

Alice's eyes roll back a little as she surrenders her virgin ass, whimpering. She feels herself expand until her husband's pelvic bones lie firmly against her backside. He holds her carefully, not moving.

Between the vagina and the anus, lying along the muscles, are sensitive tissues alternatively argued to be extensions of the clitoris, or the Gräfenberg Spot, or the female prostate, or Skene's Gland. Doesn't matter what it's called. Fact is, it's accessible from both sides of the vaginal wall. And when it's stimulated, it feels _freakin' good_.

Alice is suspended trustingly between Jasper's hands, wilting a little in shock. He's a thoroughbred stallion. He knows just what to do. And he's willing to take all the time in the world to make it pleasant for his lover. This cannot be rushed. It probably requires more trust, to do this properly, than anything else a pair of lovers can do together.

"You okay, Sugar?" he husks, brushing his lips across her neck. His wife exhales, and nods a little nervously.

Jasper applies more lube around his dick. The last thing he wants to do is make any tears, however microscopic.

All appears well. Slowly, Jasper draws part-way out, and pushes in again. Alice thinks that it feels very strange. Not unpleasant, but not ... exactly arousing, either. And then, he begins to move gently inside her, and the head of his manhood, proudly carrying the green surgical steel ball of his apadravya, comes in contact with that sensitive bundle of tissue. She feels him press against it, a sensation almost akin to pain warming her insides. Pleasure tingles in wake of his touch.

Jasper holds her against him with his left arm, and lets his right hand creep down to massage her clit. It's almost impossible for a woman to orgasm without clitoral stimulation.

And then, suddenly, she's riding a lightening bolt. Pleasurable sensations, electric and all-consuming, zing through her body. It's like every nerve she has _down there_ has been lit on fire. She is lit from within like the slow detonation of a bomb. Whimpering and mewling noisily in a way she's never done, she bites down on the bit until it is in danger of being severed by razor sharp teeth. Jasper takes a moment to liberate it from his mate's mouth. She can now express her euphoria unhindered.

Pleasure tickles between their bodies as Jazz receives his wife's unfettered emotions. He pumps carefully in and out. He will not pound into her today. Not for many, many times. A mix of Lissy's surprise, pride and ecstasy wash over him, into his very fibres, join and expand and multiply and rebound into his mate, where they impact her tenfold.

They ride what is probably the world's record for Most Intense Orgasmic High, and before he knows it, she is spilling rivers of clear fluid down their legs, her throat raw with screaming. Roaring, he delivers his payload into her depths, the orgasm lasting and lasting until they both lie, boneless and spent, panting on the ground next to the spring. They spoon, cherishing each other, at one, at peace, their breath uneven.

After an age, Jasper shifts, and kisses the corners of his wife's satiated mouth. He shucks the rest of his clothing, and takes off his wife's silly hat, and corset. Then, he carries her into the hot spring, and cradles her on his lap.

They sit, and the steam envelops them.

"How are you doing, Sugar?" Jasper drawls lazily. He knows she is content, a little smug, and more than a little surprised, but is she sore?

Lis tries to speak, and finds herself a hoarse horse. "Um, wow," she croaks out. As is normal for their kind, her mate tips her head back and releases his venom into her fiery throat, and soothes it. She tries a second time to express herself. "I'm ... wow. I'm phenomenal, love. You are... that was... unbelievable," she finishes a little lamely.

"Thank you, Lis," he says softly, delivering another affectionate kiss to each corner of her mouth. He shifts his wife, and washes her gently, everywhere, and massages every inch of her skin, until she is almost sleepy.

"No, thank _you_, love," she murmurs, drifting on his strong shoulder. Without a doubt, he is the best lover on the planet. Not only is he always attuned to her feelings, he magnifies her pleasure, and, thereby, his own.

He sighs gratefully, pleased as he could possibly be, experiencing _her _happiness, and snuggles up to the center of his universe. All is quiet in their private bubble. All is well.

**I freely admit that I have a great deal of trouble taking this seriously. Apparently, some people don't have that problem. Don't look unless you really, really want to know: maximumawesome(dot)com/pervfriday/ponypeople(dot)htm**


	7. Chapter 7: Scary Monsters

**Chapter 7: Scary Monsters**

**Rated M for lots and lotsa Bedward lemons. As Edward once told Bella, in a really bad Transylvanian accent, "Never a quickie. Always, a longie." _So he liked the movie 'Love at First Bite'. Who knew? _As for you, you like lots and lotsa lemonade, right? Of course you do. So as we say 'farewell' to this fic, I'm giving you a chapter that's extra-long. Like Mr Ed. *cackles***

**2old2care Beta'd me for this chapter. She really stretched my muscles. Thanks, Boston. I love you big time. **

**Oh, she says I need an award for this lemon. Hint hint...**

**If you don't understand my wicked sense of humour by now, you never will.**

**Squee! Visit me on Facebook, and see some new pics of Bedward. Links are on my Profile.**

**Please check your PM settings as ff is having a glitch again. I can't respond to your reviews if the PM feature is turned off.**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental. **

**The opinions of the author do not necessarily coincide with those of her characters. **

**I didn't make a playlist for this fic, as you'll likely get another pov in IH, but I've put the music on the IH4 playlist if you want to hear it. The hyperlink is on my profile.**

**"Smiles" (1917): Lyrics by J. Will Callahan, 1874-1946, Music by Lee S. Roberts, 1884-1949**

"**Hello Ma Baby" (1899): Arthur Collins**

"**Twelfth Night: Feste's Closing Song"**: **William Shakespeare**

"**Yessir, That's My Baby" (1925): Kahn and Donaldson**

**Thanks to masozravapalma for interesting discussions about the Greek language. I used Google Translator in this chapter, just for fun, my dear :)** **Any errors in the Ticuna are my own. Hey, only 40, 000 people in the world speak it, so whom might I ask for help? I try, eh?**

**Thanks to everyone who has given me feedback this week. It has been phenomenal! Love you for reading. I hope you enjoy the last chappie of this little Hallowe'en romp. Please let me know.**

**The pleasure of your company is requested at "I Hunger". Bella and Edward are hanging out there. They are about to leave South America, and visit Jacksonville/Forks before moving to Hanover to attend Dartmouth. Before you know it, Bella will be giving birth to Ren. Won't you follow their adventures?**

_A great while ago the world begun,_ _With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,_ _But that's all one, our play is done,_ _And we'll strive to please you every day._ _(Feste's Song)_

**Monday, October 31st, 5am:**

Edward follows Bella down the hall to their room. He is almost skipping. Before the wedding, he considered purchasing a corset for Bella, but he was nervous of her reaction. There's a whole group of feminists out there who rant against restrictive feminine clothing, and he didn't know at that point how Bella might feel about it.

Instead, he bought her not one, but three, identical black, stretch velvet and Lycra chemises, designed to look like a corset and miniskirt. She loved them so much, he's considering buying one in every available colour, in enough numbers to last all of eternity. He may even buy the designer. Her designs, that is. Since Bella likes to drive him crazy with nice undergarments. And to ice the cake, Bella told him she'd wear a real corset if he wanted to buy one for her.

He was considering something in a nice, pale blue, accented with white lace, maybe... some tiny pink roses. Then, Bella got pear-shaped. In a big hurry. Hah. So much for that. For now, anyway. But along came Toddy with a garment Edward had no idea even existed. And Bella looks delectable in it.

"I love my life," Edward whispers, elated, as he watches his wife's minxy ass enter his bedroom. He puts his palms against it and rubs. He just can't help himself.

Bella turns, and links her hands behind his neck, and they dance to an old ragtime song that he sings so softly, no one but them will be able to hear:

"_Dearie, now I know_ _Just what makes me love you so,_

_Just what holds me and enfolds me_ _In its golden glow;_

_Dearie, now I see_ '_Tis each smile so bright and free,_

_For life's sadness turns to gladness_ _When you smile on me._

"_There are smiles that make us happy,_

_There are smiles that make us blue,_

_There are smiles that steal away the tear-drops,_

_As the sunbeams steal away the dew,_

_There are smiles that have a tender meaning_

_That the eyes of love alone may see,_

_And the smiles that fill my life with sunshine_

_Are the smiles that you give to me._

"_Dearie, when you smile_ _Ev'ry thing in life's worthwhile,_

_Love grows fonder as we wander_ _Down each magic mile;_

_Cheery melodies_ _Seem to float upon the breeze,_

_Doves are cooing while they're wooing_ _In the leafy trees._

"_There are smiles that have a tender meaning_

_That the eyes of love alone may see,_

_And the smiles that fill my life with sunshine_

_Are the smiles that you give to me."_

Edward nuzzles Bella's hair, cherishing her, breathing her scent, and they continue to rock from foot to foot together, incidentally massaging Ren between them. Every once in a while she nudges at her parents, thinking contented, curious, simple thoughts that make her father's heart sing.

No salsa dancing for her parents now! Not for at least three weeks, assuming all goes as planned.

"Hey, Dr Cullen?" Bella asks softly.

"_Yes_, Mrs Cullen?" he asks in a silly, low 'doctor' voice that sounds like it belongs in an old, over-acted movie.

"Is it true that intercourse can induce labour?" she blinks, poking her daughter's attention-demanding little foot back down into her insides.

Edward sniffs a musical laugh, and rubs her tummy. The foot comes back to meet his hand. After tickling it, he pokes it, and it again retreats. "You're not giving birth tonight, Dearest. It would definitely not be good for Tigger," he frowns, concealing a self-satisfied smirk.

"But, does it?" Bella persists.

"Usually not for first time mothers. If dilation has started, assuming the membranes haven't ruptured, or in your case, cracked, it can speed things along. The cervix has to be thinning for it to have any chance of working. But there's no penetration allowed after the membrane cracks, because of the risk of infection. So I wouldn't count on trying, okay?"

"Oh," Bella sighs. Too bad.

"There is some evidence, however, that an orgasm induced during delivery can take away pain," Edward lilts, grinning crookedly.

"Are you telling me you want to rub my clit in front of Carlisle?" Bella says, eyebrow raised.

"Scratch that," Edward says soberly, brooking no argument.

Bella tugs him over to the bed. As he passes it, he tugs the sheet that's suspended from the ceiling, bringing it down. They kneel on the floor and dig curiously through their basket. Some items are on the bed already, because they noticed them before Bella pulled out the corset, but there's still a lot of stuff in the basket that they haven't had a look at yet. "How 'bout this, Mocha-chino?" Bella asks, pulling out a black leather domination harness similar to what Toddy's fetishists sported.

His eyes drop shyly. "No."

"Oh, come on!" she hisses. "Why not?"

"You're too sweet for leather and studs," Edward blurts, and blushes silver.

"Um, I don't think it's meant for me," she winces.

"Jeez Louise," he moans, taking it from her to examine it. One can almost see the wheels turning. Edward doesn't want to dress like one of Toddy's gang.

Sure enough, there's a built-in thong. No hole in it, but _still_. It's pretty ... kinky for somebody who was a virgin only a handful of months ago. Not that he doesn't have about 90 years of TMI in his brain that he's trying to assemble into something useful. Or several somethings useful.

Bella picks up part of the harness to show to him. "Look, it has lots of spring-hooks on it. And rings. It would make it easy to restrain you," she coaxes. Not that anything can really restrain him. He can get out of anything if he wants to. Even duct tape.

"Um, well ... yeah," her mate concedes.

"And the belts would give me plenty of places to hold on, or push you down," she adds.

"Yeah," he says again. His dick, Mr Ed, decides it's time to rouse. "Okay, we'll keep it."

"Edward, what are these?" she asks innocently, unzipping a black leather carry-case. Inside, there are three surgical steel objects, about a foot long, with different diameters and bulbous ends. They look really ... strange.

"Holy!" Edward yelps, grabbing the case and shutting it. He tries to hide it, while Bella tries to see. Mr Ed hides in fright.

"What are they?" she insists.

"Alice has gone around the bend," Edward declares.

"Tell me something I don't know," Bella says. "Like, what those are for."

Edward pinches his eyes shut, and sighs. "I-"

"You've _Seen_ people use them?" she asks.

"You don't want to know, Minx," he avows.

"Tell me, or I'll ask Alice," she threatens.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! You're _so_-" he begins, flustered.

"Curious. I'm so curious. Thanks for noticing. Now, give," Bella demands, grinning evilly.

Edward sighs a long-suffering sigh. "They're Sounds."

"Sounds?" Bella says, brows arching.

"Urethral Sounds. They were invented as a medical device many moons ago. To -you might say- sound out the depths of women who had problems with urethral blockage or infection. Stuff like that. Apparently women found it incredibly painful. And then some guy got the bright idea to stick one up his dick. Now I ask you, who does that sort of thing? Who gets up in the morning and says 'hey, I'm bored. Let's see what I can stuff up my dick'. Who does that, Bella?"

"Someone you know, obviously," Bella says drily.

Edward slaps his hand to his forehead, and squeezes his eyes shut.

"So they're for guys to stick in their dicks. Why?" she asks, unrelenting.

"Because the end can be pushed right into the prostate," he says, blushing. If the Volvo were here, he would blend right into the paint.

"Oh," she nods, her mouth in a very appealing 'o', her eyes glinting with humour.

"Don't even think about it, Minx," Edward snaps. "The Talking Horse is not deep-throating anything. It's bad enough that he has a name and an opinion."

"Then why did Alice give them to you?" she asks, arms folded.

"Because she's an insane fairy?" Edward gawps, getting his knickers in a knot.

Bella relents. "Okay, Love. Relax. I'll just ... put them away."

"Thank you," Edward says, and forces tight muscles to unwind.

"I take it we are skipping school today, Mocha-chino," Bella remarks. Tugging the tie out of her hair, she works her braid loose.

"You betcha," Edward says happily. "You don't need to go to class. English Lit is a breeze, and I can help you with your Greek," he leers.

"Promises, promises," Bella sighs, eyes rolling.

"Soon as you're more durable," he says, giving her the puppy-dog eyes.

"Yeah, I know," she sighs again.

"Only 21 more days, Love," he reminds her.

Bella's face lights up. "Are you excited, Daddy?"

"Of course," he declares, giving his wife one of those 'you've got to be kidding me' looks. They fall into each others' eyes. Sappy dates.

"_Mou aresei Hellenika _(I like Greek)" he flirts theatrically.

His wife snorts. "I noticed," she winks.

"_Agapó̱ ti̱ sýzygó mou_ (I love my wife)," he adds, fluttering those long, bronze eyelashes.

"_Agapó̱ to sýzygó mou _(I love my husband)," Bella responds through pout-y lips, that just beg for a kiss. So of course, he obliges her.

Bella sighs a little, yawns hugely, and wilts. Wha...?

Oh, noes! Is she tired out? Her sleep is irregular now, but she still needs it.

Oh well. Edward can wait. He has forever to love her. Even if Mr Ed _does_ think he's seventeen, and should get attention _yesterday-like-now_.

"Bella? Do you need to go to sleep, Dearest?" Edward asks solicitously, holding her hand between both of his, even though it half kills him to ask.

"Um, Edward?" Bella winces regretfully, turning to face him.

"Yeah?" he winces uncertainly back.

"I'm starving," she admits, pinching her eyes shut with a big sigh.

_Oh, I am neglecting her_, he laments. Been thinking with the wrong head, obviously. "Oh, Bella. It must be because of all the excitement tonight. You've burned up your calories. I should have thought. Here, let me get you a snack."

Edward moves quickly to their closet, opens the door, and kneels. On the floor is a small fridge. He reaches in for a bag of the animal blood they stash for emergencies. "I'll have it warm for you in no time, Love," he promises. And squawks in surprise. The world has tilted on its ear.

It spins several times, and everything goes crazy.

When Edward collects his senses, he is unable to move a smidge.

"You..." he growls. Will he ever get used to how fast Bella can move now?

His minxy mate, muscular and dextrous as a newborn, rubs noses with him, grinning. "Gotcha," purrs the cat who is planning to eat the canary. Several times. She backs up, her hands blurring as she finishes her task.

He moves his hand ineffectually. He could break the bondage ropes, although they've discovered that it's harder to break the soft, stretchy ones, but really, why would he want to? He relaxes back against the St Andrew's Cross, a subliminal growl thrumming in his chest. He looks at his wife admiringly. She's so hawt when she takes charge.

Bella walks around her husband, smoothing a small, pale peach hand down his chest. His right hand is extended to the top of the X-shaped cross, and the soft, black, brushed cotton rope, a hundred feet long, coils around and around his muscular arm. It zig-zags from shoulder to waist and wraps around several times. From there, it crosses back up a few times to the shoulder, and passes behind his neck, and down the other shoulder to his waist, so that the ropes make an X across his chest. Then, it goes back up to secure his other arm behind his neck. He is unevenly bound. It will keep him from becoming complacent.

Bella remembered what she was taught. She knew how to do it, after seeing it done only once.

Bella's memory is ... expanding.

Grr-wow.

"No knots, Minx?" he smirks.

"You like tradition, right? That Domme told me that using knots to administer punishment was frowned upon in ancient Japan."

"I'm being punished?" Edward blinks.

"Yes."

"Why?" he whines.

"Are you joshing? You took me to Toddy's. Are you telling me not to discipline you? Do you think you don't deserve it?" she blinks, wrapping the rope around itself so that the end does not come undone.

"No, I mean yes, um, oh. Can you rephrase the question, please?" he stammers.

Bella pouts. "No. I'll tell you outright. I'm going to discipline you for taking me to Toddy's fetish party."

"Yes, Mistress,"Edward says sheepishly, and starts to purr.

Edward's black eyes follow his wife. His dick is drizzling already, glued inside his denim thong.

"_Dom_ Cullen," his mate teases, walking away from him.

"Yes, Mistress," he answers, wondering what she's doing in the closet. Ah, the spreader bar. And now she's stopping to dig inside the parson's bench for the black leather ankle cuffs. _Ooh, ya! _ Twitch. Twitch. _Ow. _Twitch. _Ow. _ "Mistress?" he grimaces.

"Yes, Beautiful?"

"I, um, _ow_. Could you please help me? The thong. It's... hurting," Edward blinks, trying not to writhe at all.

Bella comes to do an inspection, and gives her mate a good fondle. "Poor Mr Ed. Is he trying to get out, and he just can't do it without ripping some denim?"

_Boing!_ Yeah, that teasing is really helping matters. "I think I used too much adhesive," Subward winces.

Bella tucks a fingernail under the edge of the H-string, and gives a little tug. Edward flinches, trying to man up, and not squeal like a sissy in front of his wife. He's not that much of a Sub, thank you!

"Fast or slow?" Bella asks coolly.

"Red!" Edward yelps, melding himself to the cross. Forget looking macho. Hard limit, reached.

"Then what do you propose?" Bella wonders, trying her darnedest not to smile.

"Um, some glue remover? Spirit Gum remover, maybe?" he asks nervously.

"We seem to be running a little short on Spirit Gum remover," Bella says smoothly.

_Shit!_

"And I don't recommend lighter fluid for flammable creatures. How about some WD-40?"

His sensitive nose wrinkles. Just what he wants to smell like. Very romantic.

"Wait, I know just the thing," Bella announces, leaving the room. He hears her open the bathroom cabinet. Then, she's back, holding a bottle of nail polish remover and some cotton balls.

"Acetone," he says, relaxing.

"I'll have you free in a minute or two, Sweetheart," she promises. But she _doesn't_, because Edward used one hell of a lot of glue. Luckily, he has married one very patient woman.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, things are back to normal. That is to say, they are pale, silvery, and erect. Although they're hairless, which may take some time to get used to. Snickers. Bella takes the gooey cotton away, and returns with a very hot washcloth, which she uses to finish cleaning off her mate. He is rather enjoying all the attention, thank you very much.

"All done," Bella grins.

"Thank you, Dona Bella," Edward says, his voice gravel and velvet.

"Any time. You alright there?" she asks as she checks that there's still a finger-width of room between his flesh and the restraints. It would be time to remove a human from uneven bonds. A human would be writhing in pain by now.

"Mmm-hmm," he confirms, smouldering.

"Good. Dona Bella is going to go and have her snack, now," she smirks. "You be a good boy, and don't break my ropes."

"Yes, Mistress," he moans patiently.

Bella collects her blood bag and goes out to the kitchen. Edward hears her puttering around on the stove, and soon, he can pick the heady aroma of warm blood out of the air. It's a tricky business, warming dinner. Heat it too fast, or too much, and the nutrients and flavour will be lost. It is a full ten minutes before Bella saunters back into the bedroom, bearing a large, thick glass mug with the Cullen crest engraved onto its side.

The minx stands in front of Edward, sipping. He watches her with stormy eyes, wondering what on earth she is thinking.

She swallows, and licks her lips. "You thirsty?" she wonders.

Always.

"N-no," he stammers, blinking rapidly.

"Liar. Say, 'Yes, Mistress'."

"Yes, Mistress," he says sheepishly.

Bella takes a mouthful of deer blood, and presses her mouth to his. He opens, and allows the warm fluid to enter him. Their tongues tangle, and he enjoys the taste of Bella and blood combined.

"Like it?" she asks throatily, and licks at his throat, erasing the green tendrils of vine that she had drawn there earlier.

"Yes," he gasps. "With your venom in it, it tastes almost like your blood used to," he tells her.

"Mmm. That's what I thought would happen," she says. Before long, they have shared the whole thing, kissing each other into a heightened state of awareness. She sets down the empty cup.

Edward waits for Bella to get busy. But her eyes are dancing. She is planning something.

"Still okay?" she checks.

"Yes, Ma'am. You can't hurt me with this. It feels weird, and I can't seem to relax, but it doesn't hurt. I'm not human," he reminds her.

"Good," she says, stepping away from him.

Wait. Huh? Where's she going!

Bella walks over to the other side of the room, and picks up a small, rectangular side table. She puts it right in front of Edward. Then, she walks the two yards to the end of the bed, and gathers up several items. She sets them out on the table, with surgical precision, and Edward gets impossibly hard. Then, she takes off her wedding rings, and leaves them on the table.

Bella looks at her display thoughtfully, and picks something back up. She steps in front of Edward, and unsnaps the fasteners on it. "You okay with this?" she asks softly.

"I don't know. If it hurts, I'll safe-word," he promises.

She takes the funnel-shaped, black, studded ring, and secures it around his body above his dick and balls, as she saw the Domme at Toddy's place do to her Sub. Dangling from the leather ring are three heavy, silver, eight-inch-long chains, joined together at the bottom with a metal ring. Bella produces a small weight, and dangles it from the ring. "How's that?" she wonders.

"I can't even feel it," Edward shrugs.

Bella adds several small weights to the ring. When it weighs more than five pounds, her husband grunts and nods his head. Then, she sets the weights swinging back and forth between them like a pendulum. Edward groans, and his eyes roll back in his head a little. He appears rather limp for a guy who 'can't relax'.

"Well, that wasn't the reaction I was expecting," she says frankly.

"Me neither," he grunts. "So good. I thought it would hurt, but it ... Oh, ffffuuuuck... It's like your hand, milking me."

"Mmm. You're pretty to watch, Dom Cullen," Bella says, the tip of her tongue resting on her upper lip. "Now. I want you to do something for me."

"Yyyess, Dona Bella. Tell me what you require," Edward moans.

She stares forcefully into eyes that plead. "I want you to think about all of these objects, and what I'm going to do with them. And I want you to fantasize about things we've done together, and things we haven't done yet that you want to try. You are to remember that you are _mine_. When the weights stop moving, you can get them swinging again. You're not allowed to do, or think about, _anything_ else. Understood?"

"Okay," he says, a little perplexed.

Bella picks up the weights again, and gives them another good swing, causing Edward's knees to buckle for a second. Then she walks away from him, and shovels the rest of the items into their basket. She walks to her side of the bed, and picks up her alarm clock. Turning it away from him, she sets an alarm. Then, she walks back. His eyes are locked on the apex of her thighs.

"You belong to me," she says authoritatively. "Cum for me. Now."

As usual, his head knocks back against the wood, and he shoots his load with a guttural roar. Teeth clenched, he trembles in his bonds, using every inch of willpower he possesses not to break his promise, and burst out of the ropes. Panting, he brings his eyes up to his wife's in time to see her playfully lick her fingers. "I will _never_ get used to that," she chuckles. "You are such a stud."

"Thank you," he says, thrilled to bits that a _very_ seventeen year old bodily reaction delights his wife. She kisses him softly, and he tastes his own sweetness on her.

"Fulfil your orders," she tells him, and he manages to refrain from rolling his eyes at her. Yeah. Like he could forget.

"Yes, Ma'am," he drawls.

Then, she does the unthinkable. She turns out all the lights, and crawls into bed.

But-

"Edward?" she murmurs.

"Yes, Love?" he answers, doing his best not to whine.

"If you're good, and do as you're told, I am going to listen to whichever fantasy you wish. And then, I am going to make your reality much, much better than anything you can dream up."

He can dream up quite a lot, he _thinks_. Twitch. Twitch.

Within moments, Bella is sound asleep. She is exhausted. He can hear it in her breathing.

Edward begins to castigate himself for not taking care of his wife and child. He's been running her ragged, he realizes. He took her not to one, but three parties, and then assumed she would have the energy to play with him. How selfish! Not thoughtful. He feels guilty and remorseful. But suddenly, he stops short, and shakes his head 'no'.

He is not allowed to do anything, but think about lovemaking. Sex that he and Bella have had, and sex they have not. He promised. And experience has taught him to keep his promises to Bella. Always. So ... no putting himself down.

Where to begin? Um... at the beginning?

So... once upon a time, there was a hundred-plus year old boy who went to school one day (boring, boring, boring) when he saw a stranger. Across a crowded room. And boy, she was hot. And suddenly, _he_ was hot. And bothered. And he'd been cold for so long. But damn if something wasn't awake in his pants. He went to the john to check it out, and shot his first load since 1918. Messy. And way addictive. More addictive than her blood.

Suddenly, Mr Ed was talking to him after almost 85 years of the silent treatment. How great was that! And he really, really wanted Edward to talk to the beautiful girl with the big brown eyes and the minxy ass and the tits (yeah she had the best tits) just made for him.

He kissed her in her bed. He kissed her in his meadow. He danced with her in his bedroom. He danced with her at her Prom. And oh, dancing didn't even come close to the experience of her sweet, tight pussy. Took him sixteen months to get brave enough to touch it, but hey, he did, right? And he's getting Ren as proof of that. Hah.

Bella in Niagara in the bath: Holy. She smelled so, so good wet. Always better wet. He made her cum just by touching her nipples. And she _touched_ him. Fuck, he never knew anything could feel so good, and that was mild compared to the touches they share now. Mere months ago, neither of them had ever experienced an intimate touch. They were too insecure to talk, and too embarrassed to make any noise. He'd have sooner pulled out his own eye teeth than tell her anything he wanted to try.

But experience and talking have led them to comfort. It's all down to Bella. She knows how to draw him out. She makes it safe to tell her things, and he reciprocates gratefully. She doesn't make him feel dirty, and she plainly enjoys seeing to his satisfaction just as much as he treasures fulfilling her. Bella is the one who does it for him. She's his _mate_. Resistance was futile. Who wants to resist now? Not him. He's very happy now. Look at the goo goo eyes on him! And on Bella. He put that look there. Nobody else.

Here, in the dark, silent room, he ponders the past in light of the present, and is struck by how much life has changed in a very short period of time. He is standing tied to a cross on the wall, for heaven's sake! The soft ropes are like a cocoon: they warm and enfold him. They make him feel secure. Safe.

Bondage heightens his awareness, and make him long to touch his wife. He is not allowed to hold her while she sleeps, or caress her to alertness. His fingers unconsciously trace her form, touching only air, as he thinks about showing her how much she is loved, and remembers things she has done that made him feel wanted and important.

Back in July, she beat him off. A few days later, she sucked him off. The night before their wedding, they shared a high ride, and then, he almost took her, but he didn't spoil things by doing it, after having waited so long. Instead, she held his cock against her burning pussy and squeezed his tip, and slid back and forth along it until he couldn't take it any more. He made her back away so he couldn't hurt her, and they watched each other stroke themselves off. Fffuuuck. He came so hard he dented the hood of the damn car he was sitting on.

The memory of that alone is enough to drive him mad. He stops the swing of the weights dangling from the ball stretcher by clasping the chains between his thighs, and pants, resisting his excitement. He slows things down.

He has two personal goals, designed to make him a better lover, that he has not shared with Bella. He's been working on them for a while. First, he doesn't want to be prematurely ejaculating every five minutes like a young boy . He knows she didn't care, because he didn't need time to recover, but it was a bit distracting on their wedding night.

Second, he wants to make their bond so safe and nurturing, that neither one of them need feel inhibited. That is something that he knows Bella wants too. It goes without asking.

After a few minutes pause, Edward feels the urge to climax pass. He can go back to fantasizing, confident that he will not expend his pent-up energy alone. He's saving it for his mate. Delayed gratification makes his experience with her better.

Edward remembers how they tiptoed out of their own wedding reception after he discovered she hadn't been wearing any underwear all day. They set about doing as little damage as possible to the Minx, and as much damage as possible to his bedroom. Just to piss Alice off. An epic bout of cock-sucking in the tub did not a small amount of damage to the bathroom fixtures. And tiles. Esme had not been amused. However, she did get the last laugh, because she got to replace everything with gaudy stuff she knew he would hate. At his expense. Back to the subject, Edward. Focus.

He had, to Bella's great delight, thrown all her hairpins at the ceiling, where they stuck in the drywall like the spines of a hedgehog. Her laughter had been his triumph.

They had to get up and go back to their guests, but Jacob showed up and made a scene, which gave them another excuse to sneak back upstairs. To cheer up. They made sure to take advantage of every second of their limited time. Strawberry edible oil all over the Egyptian cotton sheets, not to mention various parts of their bodies. Sixty-nine? Oh, yeah. Bella's tongue laved his balls. Circled his glans. And he gave as good as he got.

Maybe she'll do it tonight.

He whimpers, shifting his weight, looking past the display of toys to gaze longingly at his wife. Her dainty silk-stockinged foot sticks out of the blanket. The only other part of her that he can really see is her dark hair and one cute little ear.

A growl thrums quietly in his chest. Back to the memory.

Ravenous for each other, they left cum on every available surface, plus clothing, littered about, that should probably have been burned instead of cleaned and preserved. He can still, to this day, smell their jizz on Bella's wedding dress, despite the dry-cleaning.

But they weren't about to consummate the marriage in a hurry. Or where anyone might overhear.

Probably took his family all day to wash the towels, he reflects gleefully, as he looks down with not a little smugness at his silver-headed cock. Mr Ed is quite the fellow. Who ever guessed he'd become so important? Edward snickers, humming Feste's Soliloquy to himself under his breath, as he continues to run through his accomplishments:

"_When that I was and a little tiny boy,_ _With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,_ _A foolish thing was but a toy,_ _For the rain it raineth every day._ _But when I came to man's estate,_ _With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,_ '_Gainst knaves and thieves men shut the gate,_ _For the rain it raineth every day._ _But when I came, alas! to wive,_ _With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,_ _By swaggering could I never thrive,_ _For the rain it raineth every day._ _But when I came unto my beds,_ _With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,_ _With toss-pots still had drunken heads,_ _For the rain it raineth every day."_

Shakespeare knew everything about love. Too bad nobody had seen fit to make him a vampire. The world of mythical creatures could have used him, Edward reflects. He thinks about what fun he and Bella have had, since learning about physical love.

Wrecking his room had been almost a rite of passage. He remembers how and Bella left the mess, plugging up the much-abused toilet with her stocking and his socks. And then, he had dropped in almost the entire grocery-bag-full of colourful packets of condoms that were given to them by the kids from the high school. Easily a hundred of them. And flushed the toilet. He and Bella cackled with glee as it filled to the brim with water and debris. The ruined faucet was still dripping into the tub. He knew it would overflow, too. Payback for all the years of teasing. NO, not gay. NO, not asexual. And within a day, he was about to lose his virginity, thank God!

He remembers how Bella walked into his bedroom on that Big Day, and returned with the graduated set of white, sparkly dildos that were given to her by the Denalis. She took them out of the box, drooled into their suction cups, and arranged them neatly and symmetrically on the back of the tub surround. He blew up a few more condoms (red, green, blue and yellow) and decorated the rooms with them.

He could still hear her coyly announce,"I'm saving these for later," indicating the (ahem) _members _of the set that were vibrators. She carried the box nonchalantly back into his room while he wrote notes to his family all over the mirror, tiles and toilet seat with her eye pencil and lipstick. He thought it would be a long time until the white-sparkle sex toys would get used. His little lamb wouldn't be enough of an exhibitionist for that.

But now? Hmm... maybe she _would_. She is, after all, just full of happy surprises.

Especially when it comes to sex.

Who knew she had Fake Edward, the g-spot stimulator? Grrrrr. Real Edward remembers the first time he saw Bella release an ocean of squirt. And other times, she used it on him. To tickle his cock. Even to penetrate. His kaleidoscope eyes swirl with a mix of colour and blackness.

Bella smells bloody good right now, all warm and contented. Edward shifts his feet. He is off-kilter. He devoutly hopes this little stunt of Bella's won't damage him. He doesn't think it will, though. He feels ... mentally off-balance. Antsy. He can't settle. _Sex. Think about sex. Want. Need. Ungh!_ With a swing of the hips he sets the weights on the ball stretcher in motion. Holy crap that's amazing.

Oh, if he puts his mind to it, he can almost feel the whisper of Bella's silk wedding dress. The groom crawled up that clingy, white skirt right in front of Charlie Swan and lived to tell about it. He gathered her wetness on his fingers and took a little taste. Of course, Charlie didn't know how many times Edward had cum over the course of the nineteen months previous, either. Often, in Bella's bed. Not that she knew. Before August, anyway. After August, she certainly had (ahem) a hand in it. Or two. Sometimes a tongue.

Firsts. First airborne cum. On the way to Rio she stuffed her hand down his pants and jacked him off, so he finger-fucked her on the plane. How hot was that? Wonder Bella had any energy left to consummate the marriage.

But they _did_.

It may have been a little hesitant, a little fumbling, but it was everything they both needed. It was tender. And loving. And his hardness melded with her softness and made something new. Wonderful. Before they knew it, she was gaining vampire characteristics. Unbeknownst to them, she was already pregnant.

Edward's eyes are large and black as he stares at Bella. Her blanket has slipped off and he can see the triangle of her white underwear peeping out from between scissored legs. She's lying mostly on her side, with a pillow against her chest. Edward scents the air, and venom pools in his mouth. How long 'til her alarm goes off? How long will she sleep? Edward is torn. She needs her sleep. He _wants_ her awake.

He must not wake her. It wouldn't be right.

Seconds take an eternity to tick by.

Past events keep him entertained, but unsatisfied. Loving on the beach. In the bed. Wildly on the floor. Gently in front of a fire. Whispers in the shower. Guttural screams in a thunderstorm. Roughly in the trees. Standing under the trees. Tangled in the surf. Vulnerable on the rocks. From behind, on the kitchen counter. Tag in the jungle. Languid massages by a river. Basking naked in the sun. Watching in a mirror at a hotel. Surrounded by tall grass in the Meadow. Christening every room in the cottage. Sixty-nine-ing by the hot springs. In the car. In the mountains. On the car. On the roof of the school. Groping each other in a dark corner at a bar. Bella flogging him on the spanking bench. Having a quickie in the university library. _Heh heh heh heh heh_. And they thought he was a prude? Not.

Edward watches Bella sleep, finding himself fixated on her mound. He wants to kiss it. He wants her to lick him. Lick off his body paint. Teabag his balls. Rim his ass.

The weights swing, concentrating the wonderful pressure against his prostate. The stretcher pulls on everything he has. He leans his head against the crossbeam behind him, and does his best to relax. Bella didn't say he could cum. She said the only thing he was allowed to do was fantasize.

Bella's breath and heart rate change. Is she waking up? No. Going into REM.

"Mmm," Bella groans in her sleep. Edward focuses on her, praying she will not have a nightmare. If she does, he will have to break the ropes and go and comfort her. And that would be a shame, because she obviously has plans for him.

"Mike!" she moans.

_Mike_?

_Say what?_

Grr. Dream Mike had better not even _think_ about laying a fingernail on his little Minx. Edward stiffens indignantly. Hah! He's jealous of a figment of Bella's imagination. Snort.

"Go fuck Jessica's tits. She likes you. She wants to have your splooge in her bra. Nah, she thinks splooge makes tits grow. It does not. It makes babies grow. Just ask Mr Ed. No. Go make your own baby. No, I'm not helping. You both want to be purple elephant drivers when you grow up and I want nothing to do with that. Let me be, before Edward tears you a new orifice. That's a _hole_. Duh. Real Rhodes Scholar. Go apply to Mensa. Now, if you will excuse me, Mr Ed is the size of King Kong and he's singing to me right now."

Edward beams, sunshine after thunder. His little pear hasn't had a dream this funny since they went to Niagara. He'll have to write this one down, for sure.

"What's-he-singing?" Bella garbles. "No, not his theme song." There's a pause. Then, she sings, in a really bad French accent, _perfectly_ in tune. " '_Yessir, zat's my baby, no sir don't mean maybe, yessir, __zat's my baby nooooow_!' "

Ragtime. He taught her that song. Edward leans weakly against the cross, quietly dying of laughter. Oh, isn't it darling! She never sang in her sleep for him before. And he's missed recording it, to play back to her. Rats!

Bella is tone deaf. She can't sing a note when she's awake.

Well, at least Edward can't ever forget it. And he has an idea. A kind of fun, flirty idea. He wonders if she'll know where it came from.

The sun has risen, casting weak, white November light through the filmy curtains.

Edward waits, thinking...

"Mmm," Bella moans again, and his ears prick up. "Oh, Edward. Yeah. Uuuungh. That's it, Baby. Mmm... more. Faster. Yeah! Give me 110 percent."

Oh, yeah. He can do that. Any. Time. Minx. Wants.

"No more excuses. Bite me when we cum. Ow, yeah. Make me yours," she says loudly.

Well, that ain't gonna happen. Sadly. Even if the idea is hot, it's impossible. He can't speed along her transformation until after Ren is born, and he very much doubts she's going to want him anywhere near her pussy when it's time to do that. Probably lose his life in the attempt.

Ren is worth Bella's labour. And having Bella for eternity will be worth her temporary suffering. Edward will let his Minx suffer as little as possible. Then, they can get on with their eternity.

No need to be impatient. Soon, he will have a wife who's as durable as he. Not that she isn't physically stronger than him at the moment (which is really hawt), but a beating heart, and a need for oxygen, mean they can't go all animal when they-

Daydreaming, he envisions the day when they can swim to the bottom of the ocean and do... inhuman things. Maybe on a coral reef. It would give her something to hang onto. Grr-wow.

Maybe he'll take her to Everest. They'll go all the way up, where the air is too thin and the terrain too dangerous for humans. Snow and ice could be fun.

Conversely, a little night-time jaunt to New Mexico or Arizona might be just the ticket to ride. Mmm. Some wide open expanse, where there's nothing for them to break if he chases her around and slams her into things. Which he has every intention of doing. Over and over.

Best not think about that now. She's too vulnerable.

"Mmm-unhh," Bella moans, arching in her sleep, and her hand creeps down to cup herself. _Oh, shit! She's going to... It's been far, far too long since she_... and he's a stalker, right? Long since come to terms with that. He sets the weights to swinging again. _Oh, so good. Come on, Bella. Show me._

The muscles in his thigh quiver, and his breath hitches as her finger dips into her white kid leather underpants. Venom pools as she strokes her clit, her lovely pink tissues swelling under her own touch. She is beginning to stir. Her heart has left the rhythm of sleep. _Oh, God, please let her wake up soon,_ he thinks. Bella rocks her hips against her finger. He can smell her arousal. Hear her wetness. But he cannot see. A frustrated growl bursts out of his throat.

Oh, no! He woke her up. Will she be mad at him? Will she make him wait longer?

Bella sighs, and stretches, taking her finger out of her pants -_drat-_ and runs sultry eyes over her husband. Noting the line of pre-cum stretching from his very silver cock, she licks full, red lips, scoots down to the end of the bed, and sits on it, knees crossed. Tease.

Edward licks his lips, a little nervously, and clears his throat softly. "Did you have a nice nap, Dona Bella?"

"Yes," she says, eyes raking over him, her hair mussed from sleep. "Your shoulder has gone a little livid," she remarks. "Do I need to take you down, or are you still game?"

"Doesn't hurt. Still game," he murmurs, eyes lowered bashfully.

"Is it normal for your skin to go livid if you don't move for extended periods of time?" she wonders.

"Um, it's happened to me a few times," he shrugs. "No big. Sometimes it stings a little, when the cells wake up, but not usually. Nothing I can't handle."

Bella purrs a little. He can see that she's proud of him. "I'm glad to hear that, Love. Now, have you thought about what you want to play?"

"Um, yes?" he blinks shyly.

"Good. Tell me," she orders.

"Um," he gulps. "I was ... I don't know if you realize, but you were ... touching yourself in your sleep."

"Yeah?" she responds, a bit shyly.

"Um... Did you bring the box from the Denalis here?" he asks hesitantly.

She cottons on without being told. "You want me to beat off with one of the dildos while you watch?"

"Uh, one of the vibrators?" he gulps.

"Not Fake Edward?" she checks.

"N-no. Something... bigger," he suggests.

"Okay. And then what?" she asks boldly.

"I want you to lick me all over," he blurts. She nods. Emboldened, he quickly tells her his fantasy. Sharing his fantasy is not something that comes easily to him. Bella is training him to communicate. "Then, I want you to release me, and switch. I want to spank you, and kiss it better. I want to lick you clean of paint, like we talked about. Then I want to take you out of that corset and finish cleaning you up. And then, I want to f-make love."

Bella uncrosses her legs, and spreads them. "You want to fuck," she corrects him, as he ducks his head shyly. Why is he feeling shy? It's not like he's never used the word before.

He peeps up at her. "Passionately," he asserts.

Bella gets up and walks up close to him. "You are an overachiever, Mister... Doctor... Dom... Cullen," she tells him. "You've been a very patient boy. I think you need lots and lots of rewards."

Yay! He'd do a fist-pump, had he a free hand with which to accomplish it.

Bella saunters over to the closet and reaches onto a high shelf. She liberates a plastic storage box, tugs it down, and rummages through it. She pulls from it a lidded rectangular Tupperware container, and tucks it under her arm. "I'm going to wash these," she announces. "Don't go anywhere."

Bella exits to use the bathroom. As she goes out, they smell smoke. Edward tenses. Bella knocks on Em and Rose's door. "Em? Rose? You okay?" she checks.

There is no answer. Bella turns the knob, and pushes their door open. They aren't there. Probably went out through the window. But they left candles burning, and some of them are starting to go out, leaving smoking wicks behind.

"Saps!" Bella mutters. She walks around and blows the few remaining lights out. "It's okay, Love," she calls to Edward. "No fire. Our looney housemates have gone out, but they didn't blow out their candles first. Everything's fine. No worries. I'll be back in a minute to take care of you."

"Okay," Edward calls gruffly, setting his weights in motion again.

With a rush of air, Bella appears before the table of toys, and stands the dildos up like silly, sparkly silicone soldiers. "What's your pleasure, Love?" she asks shyly, running her fingers over them.

"The one second from the end," he says thickly.

"This one?" she asks coyly.

"Ye-ah," he huffs.

Bella crosses to him, and sticks the vibrator up to his face. "Wet it for me," she directs him.

Edward eyes her uncertainly for a second. "I can't. Venom."

"Drat. Sorry, Love. I don't know why I forget sometimes," she says, eyes rolling.

"Human," he smirks, eyes glinting with devilment.

"Shut up, or I won't do it," she teases. He whimpers. "Oh, stop whining!" she chuckles, "I'm only joshing." Bella wets it herself. Back at the bed, she takes hold of their gold comforter and flips it off the bed, leaving cool russet sheets behind. She sits on the end of the bed, and puts up her foot.

"Now. Tell me what to do," she directs Edward.

"Uh, no," he protests, gulping loudly.

"Yes," she insists.

"No," he chuckles nervously.

"Why?" She demands.

"If you do what I say and I'm wrong, it might hurt you," he tells her, blinking uncertainly.

"This won't hurt me, Love."

"It's a lot bigger than Fake Edward, Bella."

"It's not as big around as you," she points out. "You want me to use it, right?"

"Ye-ah," he says slowly.

"Talk to me."

"I want you to slip your fingers in your panties, and ... move them," he says softly.

"Be specific. How should I move them?" she demands.

"Side to side, over your clit. Yeah. That's nice. Now up and down your slit."

"You like watching that, Baby?"

"Yeah. Now um, put in your finger."

Bella does so, still wearing her leather panties. After a few minutes, her mate wants more. "Take your panties off," he orders.

" Say 'please'," she orders back.

"Please," he moans.

Bella slips her thumbs into the sides of her panties, and pulls them slowly down her legs. Then, she puts her foot back on the bed, and leans on her elbow. "Now what?"

"Um, please take your index finger and your middle finger and... put them in."

Bella gives Edward a surprised look, and turns teasing. "You aren't usually this shy with me, Edward."

"No," he admits, peeking at her from under his lashes.

"Feeling self-conscious?" she kids.

"Guess so," he mutters, wondering when the hell his wife got her psychology degree. Too bad she can't write a thesis on 'How to Bring Your Victorian Lover into the Current Century'. It would be Number One on the charts, should she publish it.

"Baby, it's just us. Nobody else is home. Just let go and tell me what you want. Not like I don't already know," she snickers.

Edward looks up sheepishly, and smiles a little. She knows him so well. "I want you to fuck yourself with two fingers," he almost whispers, velvet over steel.

"Mmm," Bella nods, encouraging him. She licks her fingers and lets them creep into her folds. Soon, they are inside her, stroking. Stroking. Oh, she's so wet.

He licks dry lips, and fidgets. "Add a third," he suggests.

Bella tries, but it does not escape his notice that she is having trouble reaching. Her belly is beautiful. Only three weeks to go, but Ren has a lot of growing to do. Bella is going to be enormous. He can't wait to see her like that, but admittedly, the pumpkin is not always easy to accommodate.

"Use _it_, Love," he prompts. "Pretend it's me, and rub it on your clit. Spread your moisture around. Yeah, that's the way. Umm, yeah. Does it feel good, Bella?"

"Yeah," she moans. She holds the vibrator from behind, making it easier to reach herself, and unintentionally provides her overheated spouse with a better view.

"Put it in, Bella. Slowly. Slowly, that's it. I don't want you sore, because later, that's going to be me, sliding in and out of you. I'm going to stroke in and out of you for hours, and stimulate your gee. I'm going to possess you, Isabella. Body and soul."

"Yes," she moans wantonly. He watches her muscles clench around the vibrator, as her juices ease its languid movement. Thinking about what he's planning, he is thoroughly aroused. The pull of the weights is delicious, but he'd much rather it was his wife's kitty massaging him. However, he can wait. Patience is one of his best qualities. Foreplay is so important.

"Turn it on, Bella. Mmm. I like the way the beads inside spin, don't you?"

"Yeah," she gasps.

"Feels good, doesn't it Baby?" he croons thickly, watching her grip and release the toy. "Rub your clit for me." His sharp eyes catch the glints of light from the window, caught on her moist tissues. He watches her clench and unclench, his cock twitching in response to her siren call.

"You wish you could touch me, don't you?" she moans.

"Yes," he hisses, as his dick grows heavy between his legs.

"But you aren't allowed to just yet," she tells him, eliciting a soft growl from his throat. Not being able to touch her, or himself, is difficult, but he knows the moment is soon coming. He sets the weights in motion again, pretending the resultant pleasure is from her small hand, kneading and stroking. He looses a jagged breath that he wasn't aware he was holding, and starts to purr.

Bella whimpers, and writhes on his bed, and he growls encouragement at her, eyes devouring her alive. As she angles the vibrator to put pressure on her gee, her enjoyment becomes obvious from the small sounds that issue from her throat. The sounds turn into vocalized panting, which grows more intense as she climbs toward orgasm. After what feels like an age, she cries out and bears down, pushing out the toy before it can bruise tender tissues, and sprays a torrent of fluid off the edge of the bed onto the hardwood, narrowly missing the carpet, leaving a puddle beneath her, and drops of ejaculate more than a yard distant.

Edward growls possessively, and his fists clench within his bonds. The only reason he remains stationary is in deference to his mate's wishes.

After a momentary pause, Bella flings the toy away, moving instantly to press herself against her mate's heaving front. They are both panting. His eyes bore down into hers as he tastes her scent in the still air: an alluring combination of Bella, musk, body paint, leather, and silicone. "You enjoyed that," she husks.

"Mmm, yeah. As you did, I am sure," he says, his eyes travelling from hers down to her mouth, swollen and red with desire. "I love it when you do that."

She huffs a laugh. "I noticed." She tips her head back, and draws his lower lip between her own, nipping at it. He shudders, and leans into the kiss as much as he is able, fettered by his own restraint. They both know he will not break ridiculously weak bonds that _she_ has constructed. Nobody respects limits more than Bella Cullen's Victorian vampire.

Edward's limits are something Bella intends to get around. Again. Not break, because his power is dangerous. Instead of breaking through his carefully maintained walls, she will creep over them. She's an expert at it. The minxy little sneak thief robs his pockets before he knows she's even been there. And kisses him after, leaving his head spinning.

Bella has so much fun discombooberating Edward. Unsure of his feet: It's just how she likes him.

His kiss is growing insistent. Masterful. Time to cut him off. Bella draws back with a smacking of lips, and smoulders into his demanding eyes. He lurches forward, and she backs up, her lip curling with satisfaction.

Time to knock all his assembled blocks to the ground, and rebuild them to her specifications.

Bella walks around Edward, evaluating, and tugs at the ball stretcher, making him grunt. She gathers her wetness on her fingers, and smears it on his beard, marking him. His chest resonates with a deep growl that she can feel inside her body, a mix of annoyance and want. Yes, it is time to argue dominance.

Ms Vampdomme turns her back to her mate, the sign of ultimate trust between two predators, and peruses the table. She picks something up, but hides it from his eyes, running her hand over other items on the table so he cannot guess what she has chosen. She listens to him try to govern his breath, and chuckles inwardly. It will be a battle he can only win via complete surrender.

Spinning, she hides her tool behind her back, and walks as close to her quivering mate as she dares. Any closer, and he will be able to peer over her shoulder and see what she is holding.

In a flash, she brings her arm down in a circle, and presses the braided handle against his jaw and collarbone. He flinches, and goes stiff. The long falls of the flogger slither down his front, making him gasp and pant irregularly. He is rightfully nervous of it, although he trusts her never to hurt him. Since their initial accident, she has been most careful not to. But he remembers in his pores what a whip can do. The long envenomed lines on his back, accidentally dealt, are an eternal reminder to his mate of the need to keep control.

Edward's breath blows out in a long whoosh. Head cocked to the side, he looks at his mate solemnly, eyes deep as the ocean, his trust complete. This small girl can crack him like the most brittle glass. He is a diamond barely cut. He is tough on the outside. Hard to penetrate. For a century, a frozen block of ice. Walls constructed to hold a world of pain at bay. Only Bella can thaw him. Only she can chip away the protective shell. Only she knows which cuts will reveal the incomparable jewel underneath.

She brings out his best and his worst, and leaves him altered forever: a beautiful soul whose inner beauty only she can lie out on display. Only parts of it are shown to other people. Next to God, Bella Cullen sees the most of it. The most of _him_, raw and unprotected. To her, nothing is more beautiful.

They lose themselves in a private bubble, protected from the outside world. Their personal heat flares, warming flesh and minds.

The flogger is white kid, a perfect match to Bella's corset and panties. Its falls are 28 inches long, and half an inch wide. It has at least triple the number of falls of the average flogger. It looks plump, and decadent, and perfectly balanced. In short, it is a weapon of artistry, made by a master craftsman. And it has been gifted to people who recognize that.

Edward is transfixed by the rain-like swishy falls as Bella strokes them through her fingers. Backing up, she rotates her wrist, twisting them. With a lunge, she brings them down on his chest, scraping off blue paint and making him grunt. She does not wield it hard enough to do damage. The whip just tells him that she _could_ hurt him, if she wanted.

Bella brings the falls down again, _smack_, against his chest, and allows them to cascade down his front, tickling as they go. She repeats this several times, allowing the falls to pass lower and lower until they caress his privates. Intermittently, she uses an infinity pattern on his chest and arms. Occasionally, she lets the falls slither down one of his legs. He shudders, captivated by her varied attack patterns. It is not his bonds that hold him, but her wishes.

Standing before him, she pulls down the falls, then holds the whip down, swinging it between her legs to gently slap the area between his thighs. It clings to the skin, then tugs away with the most gentle pull, massaging him erotically. He lets his head fall against the cross, eyes shut, and lips parted.

"You like that?" she asks softly.

"Ye-ah," he gasps, shifting his feet again.

"Still okay like this?" Bella checks the bindings on his arm. A human would be screaming by now, and circulation would be gone. She resumes the staccato rhythm of caressing strikes.

"Yeah. Don't stop. Please," he moans. So of course, she stops, and he groans and writhes and tries to lean toward her.

He feels needy and unfulfilled, which is exactly how he suspects Bella wants him. Bella steps away, and for a second, he considers breaking away from the wall to have his way with her. With her face averted, which drives him crazy, she leans over the table again to choose something new.

She kneels at his feet. Tortuously slowly, she buckles on the thick, leather ankle cuffs, and carefully shifts his feet farther apart. Edward shuffles unsteadily, feeling dependent as his mate takes a pair of large, heavy spring hooks, and fastens his ankles to the bottom eyes on the cross. Then, she adds two more hooks, and secures him to the spreader bar.

The anticipation is insupportable. He starts huffing like a train that's about to derail. He wonders what would happen if he were to break free and ravish her. Should he maintain his artificially bound state until her victory is accomplished?

Of course, he's Edward Cullen, most probably the most patient vampire on the planet. He won't budge. Indeed, he's purring again, because he knows Bella is about to get somewhere -get _him_ somewhere- interesting.

Bella stands, and gives a tug on the chains of his stretcher cuff, making him grunt and try to shift his weight. He can't move. If he does, he'll break the ankle cuffs, and spoil the game. And he likes to play far too much to do that.

Bella caresses Edward's balls gently, and his breath hitches. She reaches around him with both hands, and unfastens the cuff, removing the weights. She inspects his privates tenderly, and he whimpers a little. Of course, he is fine, but he appreciates it that she always takes good care of him, just in case.

She turns back to the table, and he jerks toward her with longing.

The minx turns around, bearing a large, white feather. She runs it over Edward's body, eyes glinting with enjoyment as his powerful muscles flex and release. She teases him with it until he looks like he's ready to burst out of his skin. Then, she stops.

She puts her thumb over his lips. "No biting," she orders gravely. "There's something I want to try. Keep very, very still."

Edward is nervous, and he nods curtly, clenching his jaw. Moving by infinitesimally small degrees, Bella Cullen leans in to her husband, their breath on each others' skin, and applies her mouth carefully to his carotid. She laves his scars.

"Oh, God, Bella!" he cries in shock. He is hyper-aware of her tongue. He arches back, suddenly, mouth open in a silent scream, and venom pours out of his ducts and drips onto her breasts. Mindful of his instinct to bite, Bella drops to his feet and runs her tongue up his inner leg and thigh, leaving a pale trail of washed skin in the middle of the blue paint she applied nearly a full day before. Edward bites his bottom lip, looking almost as though he is in pain.

"Blueberry's good," Bella says coolly, as though she has not just set his body on fire. She bends forward to lick a line up his other leg. Her only answer is a repressed groan. She sits back and looks into eyes that are raw and vulnerable.

"Edward? Why are you holding back? Don't withhold your pleasure from me. Nobody is home but us, Love. Make some noise, and leave the gentleman outside." Bella zooms in for the kill, wrapping her soft mouth around his balls, and sucking them hard.

Edward screams inhumanly, sounding much like the panther for which his Ticuna named him. He bangs his shoulders back against the cross. It is 4" X 4" oak, and that is all that saves it. By the time he hears its thump, he is back under a semblance of control, panting desperately.

Bella puts her hands on his hips, lapping everywhere except where he wants her to. She makes a circuit of his lower body, never stopping anywhere for long. The body paint melts with her drool, bubbling in her venom, and drips down his legs, and her front, making little polka dots of colour on her skin. Her face is streaky with colour. She climbs up his front, licking where the ropes don't cover. Eyeing him, judging his control, she leans in and licks up the large muscle in front of his right underarm.

"Fuck!" Edward exclaims hotly, and bites his lips, eyes squeezed shut tight.

Bella moves on to his left nipple, tasting the red and white body paint in the center of his chest as she passes. "Yawaruna i mex (The Panther is good)," she tells him, running hands and mouth over sensitive skin, and leaving lines of fire behind.

Bella watches triumphantly as he writhes and gnashes his teeth and pants her name repeatedly. He is barely lucid, and yet he has not let his words go.

"Let it out," Bella barks, and Edward keens, grimacing, and shakes his head. "Hold onto your power and let go of your mouth. I want to hear you!" Eyes flashing, she drops back down and deep throats him, pulling hard.

A snarl rips out of his throat, and then Edward is screaming an incoherent stream of gibberish, mixed with the occasional swear word and punctuated with her name. To her delight, he carries on and on, mindless of anything outside his mate's touch. Heedless of the feral noises issuing from him, he thrives under her ministering hands. She knows he will catalogue every iota of attention and his reaction to it, to be saved and savoured for the rest of his days. Bella squeezes and kneads and swirls and sucks and pumps, until, with a garbled exclamation, he pours himself out into her greedy throat, and sags against his supports, boneless.

Bella stands up, streaked and polka-dotted all over with food colouring, thrilled. Edward's head is lolling on his right arm, his eyes peacefully shut, his breathing slow and deep. If she did not know better, she would think him asleep, or unconscious. But he is only relaxing, as he so rarely manages to do. Whispering her love, she runs a thumb over his full, dark lips, her hand running through the scratchy hair of his short beard. He leans into her hand with a deep sigh, and opens eyes that are naked and unashamed before the woman God designed only for him. He sighs with satisfaction as she begins to carefully unwind his bonds.

His left arm, which has been bent over his head for at least four hours, starts to drop like a stone as soon as it is released. Bella catches it handily, under the bicep, and lowers it gently down. She kneads his shoulder, smoothing the fluid that has collected in his tissues, until the black lividity begins to fade from his chest. He flexes his hand calmly, which assures her that he is not in any pain.

When it seems her mate might regain some control over his limbs, Bella unwinds the other arm and gets to work on the ropes binding his torso.

Edward holds himself against the wall patiently while Bella unwraps him. She knows he will soon be able to enfold her in his embrace, and thank her properly for liberating him from his head temporarily. He looks euphoric. Sated.

They are down to the last ten feet of rope when his head snaps up, black-eyed.

"Oh, shit!" he yelps, raspy-voiced.

"What is it?" Bella whimpers, frozen.

"Holy Moley! We've gone and done it now. Get your robe and wedding rings on fast, and wipe your mouth. Margery called the cops." Edward grabs the remaining ropes, and unwinds them frantically.

"The _cops_?" Bella hisses, eyes huge and black.

Edward's eyes roll, even under highly embarrassing circumstances. "Our spinsterly neighbour apparently thought you were killing me," he informs his wife, who cannot seem to do anything but take it seriously. Indeed, were it Em and Rose getting in trouble, Bedward would be snickering. Were they in trouble, Em and Rose would be snickering. But they are _not_ Em and Rose. They are the daughter and son-in-law of Law Enforcement, and the arm of The Law is _long_. For all they know, it will extend all the way back to Forks.

"Bitch!" Bella gasps uncharacteristically.

Their heads whip around as The Knock comes at the door. Both sets of eyes widen, dark and unreadable.

"Go on to the door," Edward whispers. "I'll be out in a minute."

Bella hurries out to the sitting room, running self-conscious fingers through matted hair. Trembling, she rubs paint-stained sweaty palms on the front of her white bathrobe, and extends shaking hands to unlock and open the door. She looks like she's been playing paintball or something. Only the splatters are smaller.

The pair of officers on the front step are momentarily disconcerted, then they slap on their professional masks, standing At Ease. "Good morning, Ma'am. We received a call about some screaming issuing from your domicile."

Bella runs nervous fingers through her hair, a trick she has picked up from her husband. The officers take note of her distinctive engagement ring. "Oh," she says lamely. "Sorry. That, um, was my husband. We were..." she trails off. And redirects. "I'll apologize to Margery. We didn't mean to disturb her."

Mr Robot Cop crosses his arms. "The dispatcher could hear the screaming through the phone, Ma'am."

Bella gulps. _Rescue me, Edward!_ "I'm really sorry. We've only been married a couple of months, and we haven't been alone for a long time and we got carried away. Honestly, we will give our apologies to our neighbour. It won't happen again."

"You won't mind if we check on your husband's welfare, will you Ma'am?" the cop says sternly.

"Uh, no," Bella says, eyes sliding sideways. She looks like a guilt-ridden murderer, attempting to slink away from the scene of a crime. The cops are unimpressed with her compliance. There's definitely something wrong inside. Bella continues to stand in the doorway, blocking it.

"May we come in, Ma'am?" he asks slowly, enunciating extra-carefully with eyebrows raised.

"Uh, sure, sure," Bella shrugs as she backs up, and gestures for the officers to come in.

Edward strolls calmly out of the bedroom, wearing his white, terry robe. He is dishevelled, matted, and... paint-splotchy. He has read the officers' minds, and is already prepared for their squicky determination to search the house for dead bodies. "Hello, gentlemen," he says all velvet and sand, clearing his throat in an attempt to rid himself of 'laryngitis'.

"Mr?" the older cop asks, turning a new page in his notebook, and licking his pencil.

Oh, shit.

"Cullen. Edward Cullen. And my wife, Bella."

"Edward and Bella Cullen, #23 M- Street, Hanover. You're phone number, please?" the officer asks, recording the information.

Edward gives it.

"Now, one of your neighbours reports that beginning at seven o'clock this morning, and continuing for over an hour, the blood-curdling screams of a man have been disturbing her morning rest. And it was _not _Margery White who called, Mrs Cullen," the cop says acerbically.

Edward mutters under his breath, "Oh, yes it was."

"You don't need to lie, Officer... Reed," Bella says, reading his badge. "We're very embarrassed and we won't argue with the poor lady about it. I forgot to shut Emmett's window, and the noise obviously carried."

"Obviously," Officer Reed says sternly, tapping his pencil against his notepad. "Does your wife beat you, Mr Cullen?"

Bella turns redder than a fire hydrant. Edward gawps in disbelief, and it morphs into a delighted grin. He has a mental picture of his 5'4" preggie pear standing over him with a bat, decrying his worthlessness and screaming obscenities. He swallows laughter, then his lip creeps up one one side, wickedly. "Only when I ask her to," he drawls archly.

Both cops examine the couple with brows raised. "Uh-huh," Robot Reed says, scribbling in his little book. "So she beats you with your consent?" he checks.

Bella snorts, and changes it into a sneeze. Edward snorts in reply, face lighting like a naughty little boy's. "It's consensual sex, yes. We're of age, and we're legally married. I'm sorry we disturbed Margery. I shall take her some flowers and apologize nicely, later today."

"You're students?"

"Yes, sir. Dartmouth. All four of us."

"Who else resides here?" the Officer asks, still scribbling about this beautiful, but odd, pair of kids.

"My elder brother, Emmett, and his wife Rosalie," Edward supplies.

"We would like to take a look around the house, please," the Officer asserts, resting a hand on his holster.

"Certainly," Edward says, looking a little silver. The cop eyes him carefully, wondering if it's guilt that makes this young pervert turn pale. Is he hiding a body? Drugs?

"Basement?" the officer asks narrowly.

"There isn't one," Edward informs him.

Reed harrumphs. "Come on, Thompson," he says narrowly. The pair head straight for Em and Rose's room.

They march around it, making note of the strewn-about contents of Toddy's basket. Reed goes over to the window. Margery's tabby cat is sitting on the sill, its twitching tail wrapped up in a plaster. "Where is your brother, Mr Cullen?"

"Um, I dunno. He and Rose partied all night, and then they went out. Sometimes they go out through the window so they don't run into us," Edward shrugs, realizing too late that it makes Em and Rose sound irresponsible. And kinda sketchy.

"This is your older brother, and he still goes out the window?" Reed snarls. What kind of illicit goings-on are happening in this house of debauchery?

"Um, yeah?" Edward gulps.

"At six o'clock this morning, Miss White put out her cat. It ... screamed, and she discovered it was injured, necessitating a trip to the Emergency Vet. The vet said its tail looked as though it had been stepped on. Any chance your brother might have stepped on the cat when exiting his window?"

"Very likely, sir. I will visit Miss White, and pay any expenses," Edward promises.

More scribbling ensues.

The cops check in the bathroom, finding nothing amiss, and then they invite themselves into Bedward's lair. It reeks of sex and silicone rubber. They notice first that the floor is wet. Then, their eyes drink in the BDSM furnishings, the mirrors, the discarded ropes, the vibrator on the floor, a mug with dregs of something in it that looks like blood, the table of toys...

Officer Reed turns to Bedward, frowning critically. His rookie gawps at everything. Bella's eyes are fastened to the floor. She's redder than a beet. Edward meets Reed's eyes squarely, hiding his nerves. It has occurred to him that perhaps this cop will start paying attention to the goings-on at #23. Attention from humans in authority is never good.

"Where are your parents, Mr Cullen?" Robot Reed asks darkly. Oh, noes. They are in deep doo doo now.

"May I ask why you want to know?" Edward smiles politely, panicking inwardly. He does not relish the thought of this getting back to Carlisle.

"I just think they might want to know how you are behaving in university, Mr Cullen."

Bella snorts again, and gulps her nervous laughter down soberly. If only the cops knew what Dr Teeth and his Lady got up to!

"Um, they're in Washington State. All our parents except Bella's mother live there."

"And where does she reside?" the cop frowns.

"Florida," Bella blurts out. "But she's a free spirit so I doubt you'll get the response you're looking for from her. And Edward's parents are ... never mind." Bella blushes again.

"His parents are?" Reed presses.

Bella clears her throat. "Let's just say his parents would be thrilled to find out about this. They think he's too... bookish."

"You're a good student, Mr Cullen?" the cop drawls.

"Yes, sir. Top grades. I'm in my 3rd year of Med School," Edward states simply.

"Well, let me give you some free advice, son. Keep your nose clean, so you can support your wife and child. Got it?"

Edward gulps. "Yes, sir."

Officer Reed glares at Bella. "Do not _ever_ get carried away, young lady. Domination can quickly translate into abuse. Be careful what you do, in case you ever cross the line and injure him. Charges may be levelled against you. Is it understood?"

"Yes, sir," Bella husks, eyes down. Her face is flaming.

"We're done. I'm letting you off with a warning. If it happens again, you will both be charged with disturbing the peace, and if _he_ is found with bruises, _you_ will be charged with spousal abuse. Remember to keep it under control," Reed says, all snarky. "Let's go, Thompson. I want a donut."

Rookie Thompson, unlike his paunchy, divorced, cranky senior partner, is young and hot. And bothered. He lingers as his partner leaves, waiting until he's sure he will not be overheard. "If you ever want to know what can be done with a billy stick, and some handcuffs, gimme a call," he mutters, passing a business card to Edward. Bella bites her cheek to keep silent, and wonders what Edward is _Hearing_.

Edward and Bella see him out, shut the door, and collapse, laughing madly.

"What was he thinking?" she chortles.

"You don't want to know. He's a '_Sweet Transvestite, from the Planet Bi-sexual_'," Edward sings camp-ly, poking his tongue in his cheek and making a rude gesture with it.

Bella keels over and sticks her feet and hands in the air like a dead bug.

"Mrs Cullen, you are a bad, bad woman, warping me with your evil ways," Edward declares, lying on his belly, on the floor, with his ankles crossed.

"And you like me that way," she smirks, fluttering her lashes.

"So you admit you are guilty of spousal abuse?" her husband demands, pushing up onto his hands and toes.

"Oh, yes, Mr Cullen. I'm a _Bad Girl_. But you'll have to catch me to punish me," she says coyly.

"Sssswitch," Edward growls, and Bella disappears with a shriek of laughter. When he catches up with her, she is trying to lower the double-hung window in Em and Rose's room without breaking it. Adjusting to vampire muscles is a long process.

"Allow me, Madam," Edward says oh-so-politely. He stands beside Bella, raises an arm gracefully to the latch, and slides the window smoothly shut with a soft thud.

"Show off," Bella grumbles, looking at him like he's something to eat. Oh, she already did that. Hah.

"Mmm," he says, eyes honing in on her mouth. Something catches Bella's eye, and she startles. Edward turns and looks out the window. Old biddy Margery White is glaring from the window opposite, tapping her foot, with her arms crossed.

Edward wiggles his fingers at her with an apologetic smile. She grabs her curtains and closes them sharply. "Oh, boy," Edward mumbles.

"Mocha-chino?" Bella asks tentatively.

"Yes, Dearest?" he says, eyes on the neighbour's window.

"I'm very naughty."

"Yep. You fit right in with this family," he asserts.

"I think I need a spanking," she smirks.

"Mrs Cullen, I'm going to turn you OTK," he smirks.

"On To Kink?" she asks, brow raised.

He tsks. "No, no, Dearest. Over The Knee."

"Oh, help," she grins, and turns to run. Of course, there's not much space to run in an itty bitty Victorian bungalow. He has her in no time, slung casually under his arm like an oversized football.

Bella squeals and wriggles a little, hanging onto his leg out of desperation, giggling like a twelve year old. "Lemme go!"

"Oh. You want me to drop you on your head?" he asks smoothly. "Just because you look like you swallowed a basketball doesn't mean you'll bounce like one."

"You cad. I shall never think of you as a gentleman again," Bella growls, and tries ineffectually to smack at his ass. as she tips practically upside down. She actually puts her hands on the floor and walks on them to keep from tipping ass over teakettle. She squeals with glee.

"Thank you for your assistance, Mrs Wheelbarrow," Edward drawls. "You're making my job ever so much easier."

"Brat!" she snarls, trying to reach the ticklish spot on his inner thigh.

"Admittedly," Edward grins, evading her fingers easily. Not for the first time, he wonders if they should move the furniture. The spanking bench is pretty close to the window. Considering a cop might begin keeping an eye on them, it might not be the best idea to leave it there. He decides to discuss it with Bella. Later.

Navigating the mess, Edward steps up to the spanking bench, and with a sweep of his arm, turfs the abandoned body paints and brushes onto the floor. Grabbing a pillow, he places it neatly on the upper tier of the bench, and arranges his wife on it with no difficulty whatsoever: knees on the lower bench, boobs and head on the upper. Her robe is no more. Shredded. Oops. Carefully, he picks up her dangling pink and blue corset ties, and sticks them under the edge of the corset waist, where no harm can come to them.

Edward takes a long, pale blue chiffon scarf from the drawer of Bella's bedside table, and ties her middle to the bench. None of the leather belts fit around her anymore. He stands back and admires the view: orange and green paint, and a far more delicious bulls-eye in the middle.

"Oh, you big, scary monster! Are you gonna beat me, Dom Cullen?" she giggles.

Edward irons Bella's backside with his palm, and gives one of her cheeks a light smack with his cupped hand. It makes more noise than impact.

"Ow," Bella wails melodramatically. "Why are you punishing me? You _like_ me naughty. Don't spank me, I beg you."

He brings his hand down on her other cheek, frowning mendaciously. "I most certainly will. Somebody has to keep you in line. Getting me in trouble like that. I never got in trouble 'til you came along, Brat."

"Oxo. ¿Õ̴ẽxna (Oho. Is that so)?" Bella drawls. "Speakeasies, and smoking, and gallivanting around with Laurie, and beating up Jane, and wiping out-"

_Smack!_ " Tama (Stop)! One more peep out of your mouth, and you won't sit down for a week," he promises.

"Peep!" Bella teases, peeking back at her mate. A trickle of moisture runs down her inner thigh.

"Grr!" Edward warns, capturing it and rubbing it in.

"Just one question, o apex predator," she begs.

"What?" he pouts unconvincingly.

"I thought you were going to turn me over your knee," she whines.

_Smack! _"I thought I was going to wait all day to fuck you too, but it seems I overestimated my self-control." _Smack!_

"Awwwww... ow! Watch it, Naughty." _Smack! _"Ungh!"

"Mmm. Pot calls kettle," he asserts. Tugging the scarf undone, Edward flips Bella in his arms, sits on the bed, and turns her over his knee. It takes some manoeuvring, since Ren is completely in the way. Bella ends up hanging onto the bottom bedpost for dear life, Edward's knee under her upper body, his other knee under her pubic bone. Ren dangles in the middle, while Bella's toes scramble for purchase on the rug.

"Well," Edward grins. "Lookie here. I can still take you, Spitfire!"

"Edward!" she howls, her giggles threatening to send her to the floor, " You..."

"Are in charge," Edward growls. "Say it, Minx."

"Mmm. I don't think so," she teases. "It's not 1918, you know."

"I've noticed," he says, eyes rolling. "In 1918, I'd have been arrested for all this." He delivers a series of increasingly hard smacks to each of her butt cheeks, and admires their pinkness. He smooths the skin with cool fingers, and his little monster purrs and wiggles her bum at him. Placing his hand carefully at the bottom of her backside, evenly split between her cheeks, he begins to deliver measured taps, hard enough to set her glutes to quivering, but not hard enough to chafe the skin. Bella moans, and her eyes roll back in her head a little. Once in a while, Edward stops to caress her skin, and soothe it, but then he resumes the rhythm.

After a time, Bella moans and climaxes, trembling. Her jizz is collected in his hand. He rubs it into the skin of her back, smearing the orange body paint with his fingers. Playfully, he writes 'E C was here' on her ass. Bella snorts. She's been able to read his 'skin writing' for a couple of months. Edward begins to laboriously undo Bella's corset ties.

"Dyäwë nangecuma (The Deer loves you)," Bella reminds him, squirming ineffectually under his grip.

"Ngü (Yes)," he agrees smugly. Insufferable Little Shit. Tug, tug, tug at those pesky laces, o apex predator. "Dyäwë nangechama, because I give her multiple orgasms within very short periods of time."

"Okay. Uncle," she gasps eagerly, ceasing her escape attempts. "I give."

"What do you 'give', Bella?" he asks, lip ready to curl up.

"You... areincharge," she winces, saying it as quickly as possible. The promise of multiple orgasms, respectfully offered, will cause even the fiercest female to surrender.

Edward flips her onto the bed, and quickly loosens the laces under her belly. When they are all loose, he pulls her gently to her feet.

"I'm glad we established that," he says, cocky in the extreme. In two senses. Hah. Gently, he takes hold of the corset, and pulls upward. Bella raises her arms, and soon, she stands before him, wearing only Rose's thin chemise. Edward skins her out of it, too. "That's better," he croons, slipping out of his robe.

"Arrogant!" she gasps, poking him in the abs.

"Guilty. But can you blame me? I have the minxiest" _kiss_ "most generous" _kiss _"cutest" _kiss "_most fun" _kiss "_wife on the planet. Holy cow. I live for nearly 103 years without really living. And now, there's never a dull moment. How great is that?" he croons, stroking her thick hair lovingly.

"Just... let's not get caught with our pants down again, okay? I wouldn't put it past that stick in the mud officer to call our parents. I don't want to have that kind of discussion with Charlie. Or even Carlisle. We'd never live it down."

"Better one of our fathers than Renée," Edward says solemnly, tracing a finger around Bella's paint-covered aureola. "Forget about it. As long as we don't attract attention, I don't think Reed will bother us. We're just going to have to be more circumspect from now on."

"Mmm," Bella nods.

"Minx?"

"Yes, Love?"

"It's my turn to give."

"I have no problem with that kind of gift," she promises, looping an arm around his neck.

Edward sits on the bed and draws his wife between his knees. He has been curious about one thing for almost 24 hours: how is that black tarantula going to taste? He draws Bella's nipple into his mouth, and swirls his tongue through the thick paint eagerly. And recoils, shuddering.

"What's wrong?" Bella blinks nervously.

Edward snatches up her ruined robe, and spits out black ooze, face screwed up comically.

"Oh," he shudders. "That looks much better than it tastes."

"What flavour is it?" Bella asks, kinda blown out of the water by the intensity of his reaction. There are certain flavours he doesn't care for, like anybody, but he's never actually spit one out before.

"Licorice."

"Oh, Sweetheart. Black licorice is something a lot of people don't like. I didn't know that was the flavour, or I would have recommended against it," she laments, stroking through his tangled mop of hair.

"Yuck," he says, shaking his head vigorously. "Well, now I know. At least your other boob is raspberry."

"Mmm. Well, you'd better wash off the black so it doesn't get mixed up. Besides, you can't suck one side and not the other. It has to be in balance."

"Maybe I like you off-balance, Mrs Cullen," he flirts.

"I can see the attraction in that, husband. But looking at you covered in black drool is kinda revolting. Go rinse your mouth out, but don't use any toothpaste. Mint makes oranges taste bitter."

"Oh, really?" he blinks, surprised. The chemical effects of human food are completely incomprehensible. They raise all sorts of scientific questions that make him long for discussions with Carlisle.

"Move it. You promised you would 'kiss it better', and lick me all over," she demands, before he can start up a conversation about it. They can discuss it later. Much later.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Edward flits to the bathroom, and grabs a new toothbrush out of the huge stash in the cupboard. Venom is unkind to the bristles, so the brushes never last long. He looks at his reflection in shock. Black teeth, lips, and chin make him look like he's been dead a few decades. Charming. Scrubbing only with water (which does not taste so hot by itself), he gets rid of all the horrible black. He throws out the brush, then heats up a wash cloth and rolls it up, to bring back to his wife.

"Better?" she asks, smirking, as he hurriedly flaps out the washcloth and applies it gently to her boob.

"Yes, Ma'am," he says happily, steadily mopping away black paint.

"Good. No more black body paint. You don't look good rotting," she says, face puckering.

"Yeah, I know, right? Totally makes me look my age."

"Gross, Cullen. Actually, you seem seventeen most of the time, and your normal, youthful looks totally suit your bubbly personality. I am not married to a geriatric. Most of the time. Nor am I into necrophilia."

Edward snorts. Bubbly? As if. "Glad I can fulfil your requirements, Madam. Now can we get back to the good stuff? The touching?" _kiss _"Compliments?"_ kiss _"The touching?"_ kiss "_How 'bout I drive you crazy?"

"Most certainly, yes," she says obligingly, spreading her legs for him.

"I love my life," he says for the umpteenth time, kissing Bella's neck, and chucks the washcloth on the floor.

"Me, too," Bella says, putting her thumbs on his lips and tracing them lovingly. Melting, Edward allows her to pull him down beside her for a searing kiss.

Sufficiently heated, Edward abandons her mouth and licks down to her collarbone, then on down to the white bib of the 'dress'. "Well, vanilla is good," he says between licks. He tries a swipe of the gold sugar crystals, and stops to crunch them. "Lemon's good too, but I'm not sure I like the texture," he informs his wife. Chewing does not come naturally to vampires. They have to practise it.

"Hmm," Bella says cataloging that nugget of info for future reference as she traces the outline of his ear. She's waiting for more stimulation.

Of course Edward's ready to tease her. She left him tied up for hours without so much as a lick, for Pete's sake!

Instead of moving back to her nipple, he drools a trail down her tummy and helps himself to some apple-green leaves. Taking a circuitous route, he finally ends up at her belly button, which he laps at ever-so-lightly, both to torment her, and to keep from damaging her belly button ring. Now that he's got Bella all nice and smeary, wherever should he tease her next? Hmm. Maybe warm up the boobs.

"Raspberry. Yum," he purrs, licking progressively closer to Bella's nipple. Finally, he takes it in his mouth and pulls hard. She moans, holding him there by the back of his neck. Gasping, he comes up for air, pulling the other breast, flavoured only of Bella, into his mouth. Rolling his tongue under her breast in hopes of sampling more orange-flavoured paint, he sucks hard, and something unexpected happens. He draws back from his wife in shock, releasing her tit with a 'pop'.

"Hey, I wasn't finished with you yet," she protests, then catches his mood. "Edward?" she asks fretfully, worried that she's somehow managed to turn him off.

"Um," he says quickly, and blushes pewter. "Bella, I..."

"What? What is it? Did I do something wr-" she begins.

"Oh, Hon', of course not," he chuckles. "Just caught me by surprise, that's all," he admits, flushing again.

"Wha-"

"Look," he says gently, placing the tip of his finger on her nipple. It's wet.

"At what?" Bella asks, uncomprehending.

"Bella, you're ... leaking," he moans, fascinated.

"I am?" she blinks. "As in, colostrum?"

"Whatever passes for it," her mate says, staring at the clear, watery bead of fluid.

Bella gives him a little push and sits up, and the milk substitute plops off her nipple onto her leg. "Wow."

"Big wow," he agrees, kneeling between her knees.

Bella pulls on her nipple. Nothing happens. She takes both hands and squeezes her boob like a ketchup bottle. Nothing happens. "How did you get it out?" she asks curiously.

"Um, I was running my tongue on the underside, and I ... sucked ... it," he says bashfully.

How the heck does this work? Bella wraps both hands around her boob like it's a burger, and squeezes. The tiniest drop of moisture beads out. "Cool," they chorus, and then snicker a little.

"Try pulling _down_ it," Edward suggests.

"Okay," Bella agrees, and rolls her thumbs forward as she pinches. A tiny jet of clear fluid flies out, and hits Edward on the chest, startling them both. They gawp at each other in delight, and start to chortle.

"Oh, Bella! That is amazing," Edward says, eyes alight.

"Cool, right?" she nods.

"Do it again!" he suggests eagerly.

Grabbing the other boob, she pinches and rolls, and narrowly avoids squirting him in the eye. They both shriek with laughter, and he jumps up and gives her a tight squeeze. "I have my own squirt gun!" he teases.

"Brat! Wonder why I've got it so early?" Bella muses.

"Probably because you're so much healthier than our foundlings. Happens to human women all the time. We'd best get you some liners for your bras," Edward chuckles.

"So what's it taste like?" Bella asks.

"I dunno," Edward says, evading her eyes. "Nice."

"I dare you to taste it again," she smiles.

"Minx! That's for the baby!" he protests, truly embarrassed.

Bella looks around the room meaningfully. "Whadda you know? No baby yet. Go on, taste it. I bet it's something you can stomach."

He pinches his eyes shut. "Minx."

Bella pulls down his hand. "I triple-dog-dare ya," she growls.

Edward lets his hand fall and just stares at her. How _could_ she? He has _never_ turned down a triple-dog-dare. Not. Ever. Vampires find dares pretty well-nigh irresistible. He puts out his hand toward Bella's boob, and drops it. He puts it out again, but his fingers droop.

Edward puts his hand out a third time, and grasps the tit. And lets go like he's been burned. He seethes. "Don't you dare tell Rosalie," he growls.

Bella nearly swallows her tongue trying not to cackle. "I won't."

"Good," Edward grunts, and reaches out a fourth time, to caress the object of the dare. He leans in, ever-so-slowly.

"But Alice will," Bella tells him.

"Geez!" Edward exclaims, retreating to pinch his nose again.

"I read on the Internet that some women suckle their husbands," Bella says matter-of-factly.

Edward moans and rests his forehead on Bella's tummy. "Shit," he says weakly.

"Come on, Edward! Who's going to know? Windows and doors are shut and locked. I'm not going to tell, and you made Alice promise not to Look at what we do. So just do it."

"No," comes the muffled reply.

"Do you think it's gross?" Bella checks, hoping he's not repulsed.

"No," he says curtly. "I already said it was nice."

"Then just try it, for curiosity's sake," Bella coaxes.

"No."

"Yes," she insists.

"No," he says hotly.

"Yes."

"Why?" he demands.

"Why not?" she rebuts.

"Because it doesn't seem... proper," Edward says at last, trying to bore a hole through his wife with his eyeballs, so she understands.

"Edward."

"Yes?"

"Edward. You swallow my jizz," she sighs.

"Yes," he admits, turning the colour of the Volvo again.

"Sometimes, you drink my blood," she adds.

"So?" he asks defensively.

"So how is this any different?" Bella asks gently.

"Why don't you taste it yourself if you want to know what it's like?" Edward pouts. "I haven't eaten human food -food I can enjoy, at any rate- in nearly a century. I don't want to."

"Fine. Cup your hand under, and we'll try and catch some," Bella suggests.

Edward sticks his hand out, and Bella squirts some drops of the pearly liquid in it. Then she brings his hand up to her face and licks it. "Mmm. Hey, it tastes like cream," she says happily, licking his hand until every drop of milk(?) is gone. "Really. Try it," she coaxes. "Think of it as a scientific experiment."

Edward, despite his resolve, is starting to feel less bitchy and more amorous. Perhaps that has something to do with Bella's hand-licking.

"Pleeease?" she begs. Dangerous creature.

He drops his head in defeat. He is whipped. Totally whipped.

Giving in, Edward wraps his arms around Bella, and draws her close, sighing deeply. He nuzzles her chest, breathing in her unusual new scent, and runs soft lips over her nipple. Bella gently strokes his hair, watching almost ... tenderly.

Without warning, Edward dips his head and takes Bella's boob into his mouth, just as he has always done. Trying not to feel like a total perv, he presses his tongue firmly against the bottom of her breast, and sucks. Firmly.

Warm fluid trickles under his tongue. It's sweet, and thick, and tastes like ... well, he has no frame of reference. But it somehow seems... wholesome.

"Yeah. Closest you're ever going to get to whipped cream," Bella murmurs as she strokes his hair. He takes another swallow, and it's gone. Edward draws back shyly.

"How was that?" Bella asks softly. Edward hesitates.

"Good," he admits quietly.

"See? Nothing wrong with that. Can you do me a favour?" she asks, continuing to stroke his hair.

"What?" he asks softly.

"Well, it's really silly, but now the other side feels tight. Relieve the pain, will you, before it gets any worse?" she blinks sincerely.

"It does look... swollen," Edward winces. His quick breaths tickle Bella as he again, ducks his head and wraps his mouth around her rather engorged tissues. He swallows, and pulls. Three times. Four. Gone. She produces very little. New babies don't need much. Again, Edward draws back, and stares at his captivating wife.

"Wow. Thank you, Love. That feels... better," Bella murmurs. A couple of drops of the colostrum drip down onto her belly. Edward kisses them off. He raises his eyes to meet hers, slowly. Colours coalesce in his eyes, swirling and mixing.

Bella seizes Edward's arms and gasps, pulling him close so quickly that they almost knock heads. She gawps at him like a fish.

Edward panics, trying to stand, but she holds him firm. "What's the matter," he yelps.

Bella gawps some more, and two fat tears run down her cheeks. She takes his scruffy, paint-marred cheeks in her hands, staring.

"Bella! You're scaring me!" Edward whimpers, putting his hands around her wrists.

"Your eyes," she husks. "Oh my God!" she exclaims, running her fingers over his face in wonder.

Edward tries again to get up, and Bella pulls him back, shushing him. She's crying in earnest, most prettily. She pulls her mate in for a tight hug, kissing his throat.

"Please talk to me, Bella, before I go mad," he begs, beginning to shiver.

Bella laughs and sobs. "I understand it now."

"What do you understand?" he begs.

"Theofilo's eyes. It's diet. He's the only hybrid baby with red eyes, and he's the only baby in our family without a mother to nurse him," Bella explains. "All the other babies have eyes like their mothers'. We need the camera. Before it fades."

Edward is confused. "Why do we need the camera?"

Bella smooths adoring fingers over his brows and lips, and cups his cheeks, and smiles tremulously at her husband. "Edward. Your eyes. They've gone back to their original colour. They are so beautiful. So beautiful, my love."

Gobsmacked, he pushes away, and runs to the bathroom, flipping on the light. He stares into the mirror, gawping.

He is pale. There is a hint of a tired-looking smudge under his eyes. His lips are unusually pink. His hair is a riot of bronze. His chin sports a short, rather scruffy beard, that he's only been wearing since the middle of August. And his eyes... are green. He leans on the counter, and stares. And thinks. And recognizes an old friend: Edward Anthony Masen.

Bella walks up beside him, her red eyes devouring her husband and his reflection. How often has she wished that she could have known the exact colour of his human eyes! And now, she does.

He slowly reaches out, and touches his reflection. He gasps again, sounding tearful. "Hello, Masen," he whispers. "Guess you're not gone forever, after all."

"Of course he isn't. He's just a little stronger, and better looking," Bella teases.

Edward rolls his very green eyes. They're bright as verdant grasses in his Meadow, flecked with gold. "I ... can... My mother. Hers were softer. Like moss."

"Were they?" Bella murmurs.

"Yes. The flecks in hers weren't gold. They were blue. Teal. It made them look... greyer."

"That's wonderful, Love," Bella says, with a lump in her throat. "I wonder how many years I can keep my milk supply going."

"Huh? No, Dearest," Edward says, smiling a bit sadly. "I can't keep them this colour."

"Why not?" Bella demands. Looking otherworldly does not bother her, but she knows it bothers him.

Edward sighs, embraces his wife, and looks at her fondly. He seems older. More mature. "Because, my Sweet, we can't let other vampires see. Just think, if Trads saw me like this. They might decide to obtain themselves a source of milk."

The implications are frightening.

"I get to take your picture, though, right?" Bella checks.

"Yes. Mind if I tidy up, first?"

"Not if I can tidy up, too. I'm starting to itch," Bella grimaces.

"I'm not done licking you," Edward pouts.

"You want more orange flavouring?" Bella asks curiously.

"Well, not really," Edward shrugs. "You can wash. But be aware that I expect to lick you later."

"Deal," Bella grins.

They step into the shower, and quickly remove all the remaining traces of body paint. They wash each others' hair with Bella's strawberry shampoo, and slither Edward's sandalwood soap over their skins before scrubbing down with a loofah. Edward decides it's time to spring his flirty joke. If he replaces the word 'refuse' with 'abuse', Bella will be in pleats. He's certain of it. He grasps Mr Ed firmly by the head, and manipulates his skin so he 'sings'.

"_Hello, my Baby, hello, my Honey, hello my Ragtime Doll_

_Send me a kiss by wire._

_Baby, my heart's on fire!_

_If you _abuse_ me,_

_Honey, you'll lose me._

_Then you'll be left alone._

_So come on telephone,_

_And tell me that you're my own!"_

Bella slays herself laughing, all doubled-up. He smiles smugly, completely full of himself.

There's a squeak and the sound of a window sliding. Em and Rose are home.

As usual, Edward steps out of the shower first, and wraps himself in a towel, and gets three for Bella: one for her hair, one for her upper body and one for Ren. Bedward chatter cheerfully, kidding each other, as they primp themselves with more than the usual care. They decide to put on nice clothes, and get Rose to take some proper pictures. After all, how often in the future will their bodies change?

Twenty minutes after discovering Edward's green eyes, Bella and Edward are heading for the sitting room, hand in hand. They stop near the kitchen counter, looking like a pair of Cheshire Cats. Edward is wearing a crisp white dress shirt and black trousers, and Bella wears a midnight blue, short dress with dress heels. She has on smoky eye shadow, and her hair falls over one eye in a smooth sheet.

Emmett and Rosalie obviously found somewhere to bathe. They are dressed in clean, designer jeans and Dartmouth sweatshirts. Rose is busily towelling her hair dry. The older pair look at the younger, and smile happily. Then, their smiles morph into shock. They have noticed Edward's eyes.

"What the fuck?" Emmett asks weakly. He and his wife get closer to Edward. Invade his personal space, in fact. He smiles placidly and lets them. "What have you done now!" Emmett demands. Edward's eyes drop, and he smiles bashfully.

"You can't tell anyone how," Edward says solemnly, and Emmett nods vigorously. Edward explains. As briefly as possible. Whilst silver around the ears. And explains why it must not become common knowledge.

"Well, that explains a lot," Emmett says simply. "You're gonna tell Carlisle, right?"

"Guess so," Edward shrugs. "Anyhow, Rose? Will you take our picture?"

"Of course," Rose says, jumping up to fetch her camera. Miraculously, she is not jealous. If she wants to have her original eye colour, she can always wear coloured contact lenses.

"I wonder how long the colour will last," Bella murmurs.

"Be over by tomorrow," Edward shrugs.

"How do you know?" Bella demands.

"Easy. The Demented Fairy says I'm meeting Joe and Tabby for coffee tomorrow. So the colour will be back to normal by then," Edward answers, seemingly not bothered by the impending loss.

Rose takes a huge number of pictures of her brother and sister-in-law, together and separately. Then, Bella takes pictures of Em and Rose together.

"Why does the exciting shit always happen to you?" Emmett asks his brother, while Rose uploads the photos to the computer.

Edward shrugs. "Bella says God loves me."

Emmett looks at him, and shakes his head. "Somebody loves you, Tough Guy."

Edward colours, the corners of his mouth tipping up. "Yeah. There was a little too much excitement here this morning, though," he says, eyes rolling.

"Of what nature?" Emmett leers.

"Em-mett!" Edward growls, annoyed. "First, it appears you stepped on Margery's cat, causing it bodily harm."

"Damn thing's always on our windowsill," Emmett mutters.

"Yeah, well, we're all going over today to apologize. We need a nice bouquet of flowers, and some cash. A 'you are a great neighbour' card probably wouldn't hurt either, seeing as she hates me, now."

"Why does she hate you, Little Brother?" Emmett asks narrowly. Once in a rare while, he channels Esme.

"Um, let's just say Bella and I got carried away, early this morning, and made some noise. Margery called the cops. They searched the house. One of them wants to have sex with me that involves his billy stick, and the other one wants to throw Bella's ass in jail for spousal abuse. Oh, it was a thrilling morning, Brother. Let me tell you."

"So lemme get this straight: This weekend, you and Bella went out with us, dressed in body paint, to a frat kegger, Tabby's house, Hot Toddy's Deplorable House of Depravity, and let's not forget trick or treat. Oh, and you wore a collar for Jazz, and met his friend Thalia. Then, you made use of Toddy's toys, and probably your own kinky furniture, disturbed the old battleaxe next door, and got a visit and a dressing down from the cops, not to mention another proposition, and then you and Bella had more ginchy sex and experimented and you ended up with a human eye colour, which is bloody nice, by the way," Em says with his arms folded.

Edward beams. "Thank you. That pretty much sums it up, Emmett. Oh, and the cops said if they ever have to come here again they're calling our parents," he adds.

Emmett gawps, finally tipped over the edge into a state of alarm. "You're grounded. You and Bella, both."

Edward laughs, delighted. "Hey, Bella? You hear _that_? We're _grounded_."

"Can we be grounded to our bedroom, Emmett? Edward made me a promise he hasn't fulfilled yet, and after he does, we're going to have a lot of cleaning to do," Bella says from the computer, where she's choosing pictures to send to Esme. She and Edward smoulder at each other so hard it's a wonder the entire house doesn't catch fire.

Emmett gawps at his formerly shy baby sister. Then, he turns irritably back to his brother. "Edward?" he pouts.

"Yes, Brother?" Edward grins, waiting for it.

Wait for it...

Wait for it...

"You are one Insufferable Little Shit!"

**CAUTION: Never leave a human bound, especially an uneven binding. for long, and never leave him/her unattended. Never ever tie a rope around a neck. Never use a hitch on the human body (they tighten). Check the person's circulation. Leave a gap between flesh and rope. There are many more dangers to consider when tying someone up. I advise you to study the safe use of ropes before using them. The last thing you want is to injure your partner.**

**Shibari: **

**rare(dot)ropemarks(dot)com/introduction(dot)htm**

**Bondage Safety Rules (Be aware this site is sexually explicit):**

**bestslavetraining(dot)com/bondagesafe(dot)htm**


End file.
